


Just Short The Hobbit Edition

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Just Short Turned Story [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Crack, Fluff, Implied Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Possible Fluff, Sheep!Dwarrow's, Sheep!Hobbit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 89
Words: 60,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my start, a collection of drabbles and stories that started off as one-shots but have grown into much more. If you enjoyed Soulmarks Never Lied or any other work of mine stop here. I will be adding a chapter that gives a base knowledge of what each chapter is. I will also be reordering the chapters so that shorts that go together are subsequent chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Did I Grab The Wrong Pipe?

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm, yeah this was spawned by a picture I found on tumblr. Please don't ask for it cause *blush* I found it before i even really knew what in the hell tumblr was. Gandalf wakes up and things just... aren't... right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hath found the picture!! http://forgottenchesire.deviantart.com/art/The-Hobbit-an-unexpected-Flock-397792269.... That should lead y'all to my favorites on deviant art... If it doesn't work let me know

When Gandalf awakens to see a hay roof above his head he isn't sure how to react. He is a Wizard so panicking is out of the question... But how did he go from being on the road to being in a bed? He stands a little disturbed to see that he had been redressed in what looked like Shepherd’s gear. His staff thankfully hadn't been messed with as it was leaning against a table. Carefully exploring what little there is in his new abode he smiles at the small plate of food left on the table for him. He eats it happily before grabbing his staff and heading outside..................... No... Nope... Not happening.

Taking a deep breath he: re-enters the small hut, closes the door, takes a deep breath closing his eyes, bangs his head slightly on the door and opens it. The sight doesn't change and he wonders if maybe he grabbed the wrong pipe tobacco because in various stages of movement or non-movement are thirteen dwarf like sheep and one hobbit sheep. And by dwarf like sheep he means, small, smaller than normal even, humanoid sheep. From their necks to just below their private parts, from their knees to their feet, from their elbows to their hands is covered in silky white wool. Where their ears should be is the soft most definitely sheep like ears! But the rest of their head is dwarf or hobbit. And they weren't just any thirteen dwarrows and singular hobbit; oh no they are the thirteen dwarrows and singular hobbit he led to Erebor. It is impossible because he knows that three of them died in regaining their home!!!

Yet there is: Dori and Nori and Ori and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur and Balin and Dwalin and Oín and Gloín and Thorin and Fílí and Kílí and Bilbo!!! He wonders slightly if now would be a good time to panic because he is sure that discovering you have awoken in an alternate universe possible caused by drugged pipe tobacco where your friends, even if they are dead, are sheep is reason to panic!!!!!!!!!!!! But before he can go into a full out panic attack like which he hasn't done since he was a child the Bilbo sheep rushes up to him a smile on his face.

"Shepherd Gandalf!!!!! You're awake!!!! Good morning!!!!"

A smile appears on his face at the energy he hasn't seen Bilbo possess since he was a young Fauntling. He opens his mouth to give his usual response to being 'good morning'd' when the Thorin sheep walks over to them, still gruff and grumpy looking all while being kingly, he gives Gandalf a look and proceeds to place a possessive arm around the Hobbit Sheep who blushes.

"Shepherd Gandalf... Dis and the others are still resting in the barn but they should be along presently."

Valar even sheep Thorin speaks in clipped to the point ways. Very nobly holding back a sigh he nods his head to acknowledge what was said. How many more sheep did he have!? Oh Valar he hoped there wasn't many... He is a wizard not a shepherd!!! What did Dwarf Sheep eat? Did Hobbit Sheep still eat seven meals a day? Would they go into heat? He shudders at that thought. Spotting a chair that is much too tall for the Sheep to sit in he goes and sits down before he pulled a Bilbo, who followed him over to the chair just so you know. Thorin followed Bilbo glowering all the way. Resting his head against the back of the chair he gazes up at the blue sky.

He feels very torn about all of this. He should be wondering Middle Earth insuring that nothing dark or evil is able to spawn but here he is instead, enjoying the fact that all his friends are alive.

"Shepherd Gandalf!!!"

The young voice draws him out of his thoughts and he looks down to see that Ori has joined Bilbo and Thorin at his side. Not too far behind the youngster are both Dwalin and Dori... Is Balin.... _No,_ he tells his brain sharply _you are not going there just like you are not going to notice the looks Dwalin is giving Ori._ He mentally shakes himself trying to rid his mind of those thoughts. He smiles down at Ori.

"Why hello there Ori. How are you this morning?"

Ori blushes slightly and scuffs his toes.

"Dwalin took me to the fence today... We went to Radagast 's fence line, not Saruman's."

"Oh?" he didn't understand the significance of that but who was he to deny the boy his moment, for he was most definitely was having one. Ori nods his head excitedly and Gandalf feels more at peace at being here. Fílí and Kílí are the next to approach him. Kílí is talking excitedly about something and Fílí smiling bemusedly.

"And I was like Legolas I am so better than you with a bow and he was like nuh uh and we got out our bows and had a contest and I would have won if Gimli hadn't startled me!!"

He chuckles softly.

“And what did you do to Gimli?”

“We didn’t do anything!” they exclaim innocently. Gandalf huffs, he doubted that very seriously but Bofur rushes up to him all smiles, his hat almost falling off if the hand holding it on is any indication… _Why is he wearing a hat???_

“Guess what Shepherd Gandalf!!! Bombur’s wife, Wina, she says she’s with another!!! Oh joyous days!”

“Is that so? And what does that bring the total up too?”

“Ten!”

Gandalf valiantly doesn’t notice the way Nori’s eyes devour poor unsuspecting Bofur’s body and congratulates him. Bilbo, Ori and Kílí surround Bofur happily chatting with him. Dori even actually approaches the group to congratulate the soon to be Uncle. The happy chatter about children soon turns to gossip and like old maids they move away to do so where few can hear them. Gandalf chuckles slightly at that. He’s slightly surprised when Balin, Dwalin and Nori join Thorin and Fílí standing next to him. They all heave a sigh and look longingly at them.


	2. Merry, Merry, where are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry and Pippin their lives after the Ring. Pippin closes his eyes looking up at Merry than when he wakes up it's to thirteen dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have no clue how to even describe this.

For the longest time Merry and Pippin have heard that they remind others of two dwarven princes. Two princes that have long since passed from the world of living. It hurts Pippin's heart when he thinks he causes his friends pain, for Bilbo had known them on his adventure, Gimli had grown up with them and though he hadn't known them long Legolas was also fond of the princes. Merry preened every time he was likened to the lion prince. Pippin looks over at his cousin and Heart. It had been a few years since Frodo and Bilbo had sailed across the ocean, life in the Shire it just wasn't the same for them. Sam... poor Sam pretends to love another while his Heart is far beyond his reach. Rosie, Rosie knew but she loved Sam and their children dearly. But the Shire life wasn't the life for Merry and Pippin, not anymore. So they packed up and left, the helped humans with small skirmishes here and there. Pippin sighs softly curly chestnut hair covering gray eyes as he rests his head against his knees. Deep within his soul he feels as if something is wrong, something is going to happen and it scares him. He doesn't want to leave Merry and he doesn't want Merry to leave him.  
  
"You're thinking to loud over there Pip."  
  
Pippin chuckles softly raising his head from his knees.  
  
"What a horrid thing to accuse me of. Thinking indeed," he tries to joke but it falls flat and Merry sits up blue eyes worried. Pippin gently traces Merry's face molding himself into his side.  
  
"I have a bad feeling Merry, a very bad feeling."  
  
Merry holds on to him tightly kissing his head gently.  
  
"I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
They stay curled up within each others embrace until their stomachs start to protest. Merry kisses Pippin soundly as the younger slips out of the bed. Today they are going to be escorting a traders carvan from Bree to a settlement close to where Rivendell use to be. He wishes he could see the elves again, they were nice and didn't judge him as the humans and fellow Hobbits did for loving Merry but they're gone now. Deep in memories of the past Pippin makes breakfast, not anything grand like a Hobbit would have in the Shire but simple and filling.  
  
A pair of arms circle his waist and a head rests on his shoulder. Hands rub his stomach in an empty measure, no matter how hard they tried... Pippin mentally shakes his head away from those thoughts. It wouldn't do to dwell on sad things on an already ominous day. Merry helps him dish up the meal of eggs, bacon and toast before sitting down, pulling Pippin on to his lap. His Heart seems to pick up on his subtle thought for he kisses his neck.  
  
"Yavanna will bless us soon. We saved Middle Earth, surely she will gift us with a child. Sam has four now don't he."  
  
"Aye he has four children and a broken heart. Perhaps the children are the Green Lady's way of saying sorry."  
Merry sighs softly.  
  
"Pip...."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No it's alright... You know we have some time before...." Merry wiggles his eyebrows making Pippin giggle.  
  
"Bed. The table leaves the most awful bruises on my back," Pippin whisper nipping at Merry's ear. With a loud laugh Merry stands carrying his lover to the bedroom. Today may just be a good day after all, is Pippin's last though before the ability to think is taken from him. If only they stayed in bed.  
  
Later that day as they lead the caravan through the woods, pausing at the three trolls so they can boast about knowing the Hobbit that helped turn them so they are attacked. Not by bandits like normal but by orcs. Horrid memories pass through each Hobbit's head as they strive to keep the cursed things from the merchants who did not know how to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin plus the four armed human guards of the caravan fight hard. Pippin with his small blade that he was given in Gondor slices any Orc that gets to close to him or Merry, his hesitance of killing is still there but his determination to protect overruled it just as it had during that battle. Merry fights hard, he had received a replacement blade after he healed enough from stabbing a Nasghoul and it serves him well. He turns to check on Pippin a cheeky grin on his face. Pippin smiles back at him and then a sound that will always haunt his nightmares echoes. The sound of an arrow hitting flesh. He looks down and stares in shock at the arrow protruding from his chest. Another arrow hits and he goes down faintly hearing Merry yelling his name.  
  
The sounds of battle dim and all he can see are blue eyes and blond hair. He coughs blood dribbling down his chin. Merry clutches him tightly, rocking back and forth.  
"Stay with me Pip, don't you leave me. You can't leave me Pip..."  
  
Shakily he raises a hand to place it on Merry's heart.  
  
"I'll always... be here... Merry."  
  
And the world goes black.  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
When Pippin wakes up it's to green leaves and whispered words. He frowns slightly as he takes in the canopy, it's not like the leaves of the forest he was... Merry!!! He jolts up with a gasp looking for his lover only to met with the sight of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. A hobbit that isn't his Merry. His heart thunders as he scrambles away from the strange dwarves his hand going for his sword only to notice with a falling heart that it wasn't there. The hobbit steps forward hands up soothingly as the dwarves behind him shift, their weapons already in their hands.  
  
"It's alright. We won't hurt you," the other hobbit soothes and the voice rings a bell from deep within his memory. A soft chest that rose up and down, the voice would crack on parts of the story he was telling and as time went by the voice began to echo it's passage.  
  
"Would you mind telling us your name and how you got to be here?"  
  
Pippin shakes his head slightly, not seeing the frown marring the dwarf closest to the hobbit.  
  
"This isn't possible. It isn't. This must be a dream, a cruel dream brought on by my injuries," he mutters backing farther away. The hobbit before him can't be Bilbo, it can't! He watched him board the ship to the undying lands!!! Plus he is as young as Pippin maybe older... Nope not possible those orc arrows must have had something on them.  
  
"How does he know your name Bilbo?" the gruff question jolts him out of his thoughts.  
  
"Did I say that all out loud?" He asks, his voice squeaking. One of the dwarves, the one with white hair and split beard, chuckles.  
  
"You did indeed laddie. Now how do you know our burglar?"  
  
Gray eyes watch the hobbit before him warily, he said injuries yet he could see none on him. The boy shakes his head rapidly and sits down holding his head.  
"This isn't real..."  
  
Biblo sits next to the other hobbit and gently rubs his shoulder which only makes the other sob.  
  
"You can't be Uncle Bilbo. You can't, cause that means I'm dead and this is the afterlife and I've left Merry... You can't," he whispers leaning into the others touch. Bilbo frowns softly as he hugs the crying hobbit.  
  
"You're not dead. You are nice and warm and very much alive. It's not very fair that you know my name but I don't know your now is it? It is also very ill-mannered that you haven't introduced yourself," he scolds softly and he is rewarded with a chuckle. He's given that lecture to a certain young cousin of his many a times when he gets excited. He notices the dwarves getting closer to him shakes his head slightly. It wouldn't do to scare the poor dear.  
  
"Pippin at your service."

Balin sees the homesick look that crosses Bilbo's face at the name and frowns.

"So Pippin what were you doing before you woke up here?" His cousin had a habit of sleep walking if he remembered correctly.

"Me and Merry were escorting a caravan. The merchants wanted the 'brave heroes of Rohan and Gondor' to be with them hoping we'd scare off any bandits... Should have known something would go wrong. I could feel it," Pippin whispers softly. The dwarves lean in to hear him "It was going so well, we were even ahead of schedule so we stopped at the stone trolls. Whenever we go that way we like to stop there and reenact the story... We were ambushed... Not by bandits but by orcs! They shouldn't have been there, they should have been dead..." a hand clutches where the first arrow hit him "We were outnumbered... Six against many. Two hobbits and four humans.... But we were winning then, thwap. An arrow hitting me then another thwap... and Merry is begging me not to leave."  
  
Pippin shudders slightly and the dwarves share looks of confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as before.


	3. Bofur's Babies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur looks at his children and his wonder lust goes away... For the moment

Bofur smiles gently at the dwarfling on his lap, she is small with long black hair and stunning green eyes. She is one of the four dwarflings he is now the proud parent of. The small, treasured darlings came to him through unforeseen events. Ingail, the girl on his lap looking up at him expectantly, never knew either of her parents. An orphan from the very beginning, how she survived he'll never know. He found her scrounging around a human town he's forgotten the name of, it broke his heart and he took the steps necessary to adopt her. It was hard on her, he think, leaving the only town she ever knew to travel with him. When he returned to Erebor Bombur was ecstatic, showing off his new niece like he was the father. The news spread fast that he adopted a child and one morning, he was itching to leave and contemplating if it would be wrong to go on another caravan leaving Ingail with her Uncle Bombur and Uncle Bifur. When he opened the door he found little Helg standing there, a note in his hand explaining that his father couldn't take care of him anymore. Bifur stood behind him, he was prepared to guilt trip his cousin into staying if he had to, smiling as he took the somber dwarfling into his arms. His desire to run left him as he held the little one and Ingail came down for breakfast. Soon Helg was adopted and added to his family. Helg, a year younger than Ingail but just as smart is very quite, hardly speaking a word. He has gray eyes that light up when ever Bofur tells him stories and sits him on his lap to braid the short dark brown hair he has.

One of Bofur's fears after they took over Erebor and before his children came to him was that everyone would know his name and he wouldn't have a moment of peace. While he doesn't have peace, peace is a dream when you have children, he wasn't mobbed like he thought he was going to be. In fact Bifur and him faded into the background, the survival of the King and his Heirs over shadowed a pair of two makers. Not that they cared, they were happy that their King survived and that they weren't mobbed. Bombur is the only one of the three that got a lot of attention, mainly because he is the personal cook to the Royal family. In fact it was three weeks after Helg came into his life that a friend of Bomburs asked him to babysit his twins, Rornic and Rodnar. Their father was going to return to Ered Luin to retrieve the rest of his family. He hasn't came back, it's been three years with no news what so ever and the boys have been adopted by him. The twins are two years younger than Helg and they are almost as devious as Fili and Kili. Rornic is the eldest twin with red hair and blue eyes, Rodnar is the youngest dwarfling with black hair and blue eyes.

Ingail pulls on his shirt impatiently.

"Momma Bofur! You're supposed to be telling us a story!" she reminds him and he wants to groan. All it took was Bifur calling him a Mother Hen once for all his kids to start calling him Momma.

"Right. Now which story did ye want?"

"The one where the Burglar saves his friends from the Trolls!" Rodnar squeaks. Bofur chuckles and launches into the tale, arms waving around. The dwarflings hang on his every word, eyes wide in wonder. With his babies around the ache in his heart is easier to ignore, the itch to leave goes away and he feels content.


	4. Another Bofur Ficlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur is a miner by trade but carving... Carving is what keeps him sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has left me Kudos, I love them just like I love the comments. I shall try to get more on Chapter two but I won't make promises. Big hugs to all of you readers.

Bofur smiles sadly as he sits in front of the window. His eyes are empty, no sadness or happiness present. He is empty as his hands absent mindedly carve figures from wood. He's always had a gift for bringing an image from the wood quicker than others and it still be absolutely beautiful. He looks over at his little brother and he feels like sobbing, they are alone now... Mother... Father... both gone and they are so alone. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to help his brother who felt horrendous pain. Looking down at his hands he sees that he has finished his toy, a small wooden figurine of their Mother. Sitting it aside he picks up another piece of wood and starts again. Bombur is stirring when he finishes the toy, this time a figurine of Father. A smile graces his lips and gathering up the other toy he walks over to his brother who is clutching their father's hat tightly.

"Hey Bombur... I made these for you..."

Bombur looks at the figurines and a smile lights his face making Bofur's heart feel light. With gentle fingers Bombur takes them, he looks up at his big brother and sees though he is smiling it doesn't reach his eyes. So with a lot of bravery on his part he places their father's hat on Bofur's head.

"Thank you."

A true smile lights Bofur's face and he pulls his brother into a hug.

__________________________________________________________________________________  
Bofur felt like crying. It wasn't fair!!! Bifur had taken them in when they had nothing, him and his One. They had two children of their own to take care of too. Why was Mahal so cruel? Why did they have to them away from Bifur, from Bombur who had started to talk again, from him?!? In cruel irony he sits yet again in front of a window, wood and his knife in his hands. They are lost thanks to those damn goblins, to those damn orcs. He doesn't notice when he finishes his first figurine, doesn't hear Bombur calling him to eat, he just carves. He feels heavy and he doesn't know how much more loss he can take.

Bifur wants to join the group of dwarrows intent on hunting down the raid that took his lover and children. Bofur thinks that Bifur hates the fact that they, Bombur and him, lived while his One, his Ionu, and his children did not. He finishes the second figurine and he comes to the destructive realization that Bifur might not want them anymore causes the tears he been holding back to fall. He hates crying, hates feeling sad, his mother never cried she always laughed. So he tries to always laugh, to smile just like she did. He puts down the third figurine he is working on and hunches over to sob. Faintly he feels someone wrap him in a hug. He clings to the warmth of the one holding him, dimly he realizes that it is Bifur, Bombur is bigger than both of them. He hears his cousin whisper into his ear that he won't leave them alone again, that he will be back.

He finishes the last figurine right as Bifur goes to leave. Bombur blocks the door knowing what he wants to do. Grabbing Bifur's hand he places the figurines in the palm.  
  
"Now you'll have them no matter where you go."

Bifur smiles and clunks their foreheads together.  
  
"Thank you."

And then he leaves, when he comes back he's not himself but he came back that is all that matters. So even though he is now the head of the family he thinks he can handle it because he has his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as all the others.


	5. This was my first stab at Hobbit Fanfiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should mention that I have these ficlets scattered in my documents folder. So they have been chilling and waiting to be read for a while. This was my very first time playing in The Hobbit fanfiction sand box. I had just gotten the movie, it's been forever since I've read the book, and it spawned this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's uber short and I would say sweet but....

Blood pours onto the ground pooling in an ever growing puddle around a limp hand. Hazel eyes stare blank and empty into the sky. Once curly chestnut colored hair is now dark and dirty sticking to a pale face and neck. Bright crimson stains clothing. Held tight in deaths grasp is a short elven blade shining blue. Thirteen dwarrows fight on not noticing that their burglar is unmoving. Then a young dwarf with red hair stumbles over the body. Eyes widen in shock and a shrill scream escapes his lips. His brothers rush to his side killing the orcs who try to strike him. Looking over a dwarf with thick gray streaked black hair feels his heart stop at the sight. Blue eyes deaden slightly and he increases his efforts. Soon all the orcs are dead and the company morns the loss of their hobbit. Not moments ago he was alive, joking, laughing, talking to them... now... The three youngest dwarrows sob loudly at the loss and Bofur falls to his knees feeling the loss of a dear friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....... Very short compared to the other ones.


	6. Dreams aren't always happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo dreams of a life before, dreams that scare him, dreams that make him never want to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not an This world AU but still possibly an AU

Bilbo pretends to sleep every night. He closes his eyes but he never sleeps. Sleeping is his true fear, he feared sleeping more than Wargs, more than Dragons, in fact there is nothing he feared more than sleep. While others had sweet dreams or cruel nightmares or even the blessed nothingness of pure and deep sleep he, he dreamnt of things far scarier then nightmares. Scarier because deep down in his soul he knew that it was the truth. Truth from long ago but still the truth. So Bilbo pretends, pretends to sleep, pretends to be grumpy when woken, he's done this since he was a small Fauntling. When he was young, when he was small his dreams were horrid and scary. All around him people, dwarves, men, elves, even hobbits are fighting. He's in the middle of it all. He can feel the desperation, the need to get _somewhere_ , to save and protect _someone_ only to be struck. He falls onto his back and stares up into a face clouded by pain and knows that this is his death. Yet before the sword can fall and take his life he is awoken by his mother, she's always crying, begging him to come back to her, to not leave her _oh Eru don't take her Bilbo_ and his father will be clutching at his wife confusion in and fear in his eyes as he holds her.

As he grew older the dreams shifts, they still show things that end horribly but at times they show happy things. He hates the happy dreams because he doesn't want to wake up and fears he will sleep forever. His fear isn't ungrounded, once he slept a whole week, a whole week of being happy in his dreams that ended with a scream. He shivers slightly, not from the cold but from the mere memory of how that dream ended, he wouldn't let his mother out of his sight for a long time. _You can't leave me!!! No!!! I won't let them have you!!! You can't leave me and Papa, you can't. Please don't momma. Please don't leave me._ Someone to his left shifts and he stills, his face going blank. He doesn't want his traveling companions to know. His eyes open when he feels a body move closer to him and his vision is filled with dark hair. A smile makes its way onto his face as he shifts so that Kili can get comfortable next to him. It's not long after Kili settles that his brother cuddles next to him. Bilbo pets his blond hair and for once wishes he can dream, dream and be normal like _his_ Fili and Kili... Though they aren't _his_ anymore. It doesn't matter, they will never know of his dreams filled with laughing children and a smiling dwarf who holds him as if he is a great treasure. They will never know of the horrid ends they met, never know that he saw two parts of his heart start to fall before he was brought down. Never, not if he has any say over the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^u^ Same as before


	7. Mr. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows who he is and he knows what he isn't. He isn't interesting, he isn't fun. He is just Bilbo. Living alone in his two story house writing a book that will never be published.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is AU!

Bilbo knows he isn't the most interesting person in the world; he hardly ever leaves his home much less the small village he lives in. But at night he dreams the most perfect dreams ever. The land he travels is beautiful and while they are coarse and gruff his company is the most entertaining people he had the privilege of knowing. Sure some nights his dreams are more like nightmares, battling fierce creatures, avoiding being crushed by rocks, falling down deep holes, nearly being burned to death and that great final battle but in the whole he loved it. So he sits in his study typing up his marvelous adventures chuckling at some parts. His book would never be published... At least not in The Shire. They wouldn't approve of the same sex relations depicted in it much less the relationship between the two brothers... and boy was that an awkward dream. Giving three young dwarrows 'the talk' because they have over protective family members was nerve wracking!!! He was sure Dori or Thorin would appear out of nowhere to strangle him in attempt to keep the three young dwarrows oblivious. Thankfully neither did but he swears that Nori sent him a thankful look afterwards.

A soft smile comes onto his face as he pulls up the document with all of his party member’s descriptions in it. Thirteen dwarrows and one wizard, plus the elves they met along the way and Bard and Boern of course one mustn't forget about them. Oh how he wished he could draw then he could have illustrations to with his story. Maybe someday he will allow someone to read bits of the story to draw it for him.

He closes his eyes and visualizes them, Gandalf tall and wise with long white hair dressed in gray robes and a pointy blue hat. Dwalin part of his head bald with Khadzul runes inked into his skin, beard brown; a serious dwarf but he could be very sweet his blue eyes lighting with a smile even if his lips never did. Balin, Dwalin's older brother, the only dwarf that didn't tower over him, a cheery disposition and tough negotiator all in one with white hair and beard and kind brown eyes. Fili and Kili... His heart clenches thinking of those two. So young so devious. Fili the older brother with wild golden hair much like a lion and blue eyes so much like his uncle's. Kili so sweet, so unsure of his place because he wasn't the heir and couldn't seem to grow a proper beard with his dark hair, much like his uncle's, and brown eyes. Dori, the eldest of the 'Ri brothers, had a kindly face with blue eyes and white hair, they would sit for hours discussing tea. Nori, the middle 'Ri brother with his odd red star shaped hairdo and ever shifting gray eyes, took time to show him just how to be a burglar ever thankful that Bilbo never judged him. Oh little Ori!! Ori with his light red hair and brown eyes that conveyed his curiosity over everything. Then there is Oin, the healer and very deaf dwarf with gray brown hair and brown eyes, he was a very patient dwarf who constantly tutted over any and all wounds they obtained. Gloin who always waxed poems over his wife's beauty and his son, Bilbo often wondered if Gimli shared his father's hidden poet along with red hair and brown eyes.

Then there was the 'Ur brothers. Bofur the kind toymaker that befriended him first, his brown eyes always sparkled with mischief his short brown hair hidden away by that hat he always wore. Bombur, sweet, shy, nervous Bombur who he would sit for hours talking about recipes who could blush as red as his hair whose gray eyes would dart up to meet yours before darting away. Their cousin Bifur who had an axe head buried in his own, the wild black hair, the beard was more white than black, not hiding it from view and those gray eyes held such tenderness when he was talking to his cousins. Bilbo often wished he was born dwarf so he could understand the ancient Khadzul that Bifur spoke. And finally there is Thorin. His heart breaks as he remembers Thorin. He looked taller than he was because he walked with dignity. Long flowing dark brown hair with gray sprinkled in, those imposing blue eyes that could drill into your soul, the deep and melodious voice. Yes Bilbo could tell you many things about Thorin Oakensheild... if his heart didn't shatter and tears fall from his eyes at the mention of his name.

Not that anyone but himself mentioned any of his dwarrows because that is what they were and are. They are his dear sweet dwarrows. Some days he wished he had the courage to leave The Shire and go on the long journey to Erebor to see if maybe his dwarrows are there. Fanciful thinking but he is a dreamer pure and true. He sighs again and closes out of the document; shutting down his computer he leaves the room. So much is the same as his dreams. He lives in a home called Bag End at the end of Bag Shot Row in the town of The Shire which resided in the county of Hobbiton. His mother was named Belladona Took until she married his father and became Belladona Baggins, his father was named Bungo Baggins and he built Bag End for his mother. He has a lovely Brandybuck cousin named Primula who is married his cousin Drogo Baggins and they have a darling child named Frodo. There is a town called Rivendell and Mirkwood and Erebor there is even a town called Dale! Hell the people of The Shire and other places in Hobbition are mostly called Hobbits, they don’t eat seven meals a day of course, but they are rather short and their feet are rather hairy. There are Elves who can get to be pretty tall and have pointed ears that Hobbits share with them. Dwarrows inhabit the mountains and have great beards... The only races besides Wargs, giant eagles and dragons that thankfully don’t exist are Orcs and Goblins.

And so in his heart Bilbo wishes that his dwarrows and his wizard live out there. That maybe they dreamed the same dreams as him, he doubted it but he hopes. He knows it's selfish to wish that there is a Thorin out there dreaming of him as he often dreams of Thorin however that doesn't stop him from looking out his window and wishing with every fiber of his being to one day hear a knock on his door, for him to open said door and see an almost glaring dwarf or smiling dwarrows or have a whole group of them fall into his home and 'at your service' him. No matter how he wishes he knows the truth, his dreams are just that, dreams. They will never come true. So it is quite the surprise that right before he reaches the door that someone knocks on it. He opens it slowly, no one ever visited him.

"Mister Bilbo?"

END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is also one of the only ones that I claim is finished but if it's wanted and the idea strikes me I can try to write more on it.


	8. Where are you my Golden Lion?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle is over and now Kili is searching for someone dear to his heart. All around him bodies lay scattered but he knows in his heart his One is safe, or at least alive and he won't quit searching until he finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING ANGSTY CAKE!!!!!! I *coughs slightly* kinda sorta cried myself while writing this...

The wind blows softly carrying away the smell of death and blood. The sky is deceitfully blue with the sun shining down yet today is not a happy day. Today is a day of many deaths, Men, Dwarf and Elf alike lay dead side by side weapons drawn against a common enemy, two enemies. A lone dwarf male stumbles holding his stomach looking for something, someone, in the midst of the carnage. His brown hair is frayed and his eyes _I love your eyes Kee, so brown, so rich... ___dart around looking for a flash of gold. For any sign. Crimson drips from his fingers but he refuses to see a healer, he has to find him, he has to. All around him he hears the sounds of the Men gathering their dead. They are loud in their grief crying out painfully whenever they stumble across a loved one. He hears the soft, held back crying of his fellow dwarrows. When they are alone and not in the view of others their pain will be louder. If it were not for his eyes dashing everywhere he would not have even known the elves where still here gathering their dead. They move silently, their faces giving nothing away but he can see it in their eyes that they are hurting just as much. He sees an Elf fall to his knees and brings another into his arms, soft cries flowing from his mouth and his heart lightens a fraction when the held Elf reacts. A shaky arm reaching up and grabbing hold.

He's lost track of time when he finally sees the spark of gold. His steps are fast and agile as he dodges the corpse of orcs and goblins littering his way like debris washed in from a storm and he falls to his knees beside the one he's been looking for. Harsh rattled breathes escape a battered chest, a face so beautiful and young is covered in bruises but what scares him the most is the blood pooling underneath the remnants of a right arm. Blue eyes gaze up at him feverishly, one bloodshot and milky in fact that whole side of his face is red with blood and bruised beyond recognition. Fine gold hair is matted and blood soaked but a smile lights the weary face.

"Kee... We won."

Kíli smiles slightly as he lifts his older brother up wincing at the hacking coughs the action causes.

"Aye we did."

"Kíli... I... I'm having a hard time seeing and I can't feel my legs..."

He bites back a sob hiding his face in Fíli's hair. His big brother sounds so lost, so unsure.

"It'll be alright Fíli, I promise. I just need to get you to a healer," he whispers softly. Fïli whines slightly when he starts to move away but it turns to an all-out gasp of pain when Kíli lifts up him. His stomach protests the action, harsh throbbing reminding him that he too his injured but Kíli pays it no mind, just as he pays the blood pouring from a wound on his brothers back no mind. His mind focuses in on getting Fíli to Óin. Óin who has always healed all their hurts. He kisses Fíli's forehead as he walks calling out for a healer as he goes, he wants Óin but he will settle for anyone to ensure the survival of his One. In his arms Fíli softly tells him what all happened. Of him being cornered by a warg that took his arm, of the cruel slash to his back that brought him to his knees, of the rolling brawl he had gotten into with a goblin and nearly lost because of the absence of his predominate arm.

"We've won. We've taken back Erebor Kee."

Kíli hates how far way his brothers voice sounds, hates how cold the normally warm skin is getting but most of all he hates that he can find no healers.

"Kee I'm cold."

"It'll be alright Fee. I've got you. We're almost to the tents. Just hold on okay?"

"M'kay... Kee... I'mma gonna go to sleep for a bit... We... We did Unca proud right?"

Tears are making their way freely down Kíli's face and he's sure his voice cracks when he answers.

"Aye..." he can't force more words out of his constricting throat. He's so scared to look down, so scared of seeing his One, his big brother, the one who keeps him safe un-breathing in his arms. Fíli grows lighter yet heavier in his arms and part of Kíli's soul dies. It feels as if he is in a room where the furnace or fireplace has suddenly gone out and all he has left is the residual heat left over. His knees give out and if it wasn't for the sturdy arms that catch him he would have fallen. Fallen and never gotten back up, if he had fallen then he would have curled protectively around his brother and followed him past that shadowy gate. But fate isn't with his this day as the arms holding him are strong, strong and willowy identifying their own as Elf. He sobs and screams and when they try to take Fíli away from him he fights like wolf or bear protecting its young. He snarls and bites and hits, his eyes distant and unseeing. Friends become foes and family strangers until soft, lilting, musical words are whispered into his ears and he falls into a black sleep. A sleep where he gains no rest but is unaware of the world around him.

In his sleep he dreams of Fíli. Of all the happy times he had with his blond lion, of the sad times. Of the times they had laid in bed worshiping each other. Of the soft noises he would coax out of his brother, of the way sky blue eyes, more beautiful than all the sapphires in the world, would darken. He remembers the times when his brother held him because his fear of the dark became too strong, when he held his brother when the cold became too much for his body, he could handle and physical attack on his body but extremes in weather were his downfall. He dreams of Fíli sitting in-between his legs braiding a strip of his hair, whispering promises as a certain bead is braided in. of the look of pure delight on Fíli's face when he does the same. _You are mine now Fee. I know I want to be... You're mine right Kee?_ It always amazes him how uncertain his older brother is when it came to matters of the heart. He feared he would disappoint him, their Uncle their mother. Feared they would stop loving him. He cries out for his brother when his dreams go black, begging him to come back. _You can't leave me big brother! Please don't leave me alone! I need you!_ **Don't cry Kee. Everything will be alright.**

And with that he woke soundlessly. He stares listlessly at the ceiling of his tent trying to will his sluggish body to react, to do something, anything. His eyes dart about and land on the hunched and bandaged body of his Uncle. His Uncle who is holding onto his hand as if he is the last treasure in the vaults and he feels so very empty. A groan escapes his lips and Thorin jolts up as if he is struck by lightning. Blue eyes so much like Fíli's land on him and he has to force back a cry, the defeated look in his Uncle's eyes and the empty feeling in his chest telling him all he needs to know.

"I'm so sorry," he hears Thorin whisper brokenly "I've failed you. You and your brother."

The days afterward are a blur and he moves as if he is a puppet being dragged through water. His heart rarely seems to beat and his smiles aren't real. There were other losses, from the Company even, he tries to care but he can't. He can't handle any more pain so he pretends to notice the absence of his favorite Scribe, pretends he can still hear the crude humor and see the funny hat of the first dwarf outside of family to accept him and Fíli. As the days turns to weeks he can't understand how everything will be alright because it's not! It's not alright that he is gone, that his heart is gone and Aüle damn it he wanted his Fíli!!! His screams of pain can be heard at night and he hates the pitying looks that other dwarrow's give him. They aren't the ones who fought beside him they are ones who stayed safe in their home ignorant of what he went through. Fíli would scold him for thinking such thoughts.

Then one day Bilbo comes back from a visit from the Shire and in his arms is a little Fauntling whose blue eyes have seen too much for someone his size. He starts spending all the time he can with little Frodo. Comes to love the shy little smiles he can pull from the little one. Slowly things start to feel normal. If he sits still with Frodo on his lap as he tells the story of how they got the mountain back it almost feels as if his chest is full of flames again. His smiles become real and laughs easier and at night he thinks just maybe everything will be alright.

After all the pain he has endured surely he won't be expected to endure more... Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A table stands where author use to. A box of tissues and a note rests on it's surface*
> 
> 'I don't wanna be killed by Fili lovers so I'm hiding. The tissues are for any who need them. Thanks for the continuing support and love you guys. Maybe next short I'll bake cookies and brownies.'


	9. Bilbo's Faunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tells his darling cousins about SoulMarks. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin love their Uncle so very much

The young hobbit’s gather around their favorite uncle as sits in front of his fireplace. Smoke curls around his head when he puffs softly on his pipe. He fingers his wrist, eyes far away from his Smial. The youngest Faunt touches his knee bringing him back to the present.

“Where was I? Oh yes, Soulmarks… As you know for each race they are on different parts of the body. For us they are on our wrists, for humans their throats, elves have them upon their cheeks and dwarrows… dwarrows Marks are on their hearts.”

“What about Orcs and Goblins?” the youngest asks his eyes blazing with curiosity. Bilbo chuckles softly; shaking his head at the question.

“I don’t know Pippin. I’ve never taken time to ask them but I imagine they are somewhere where we can’t see them… Now Marks are tricky little things, do you know why?”

The Faunts bite their lips before one with black hair and piercing blue eyes speaks up.

“Cause not everybody has a Mark.”

“That’s right Frodo. Some people are born without Marks but that doesn’t mean that they are destined to be alone,” Bilbo hums as he thinks about his own parents Belladonna and Bungo Baggins neither one of them had a Mark but they loved each other deeply. He notices the yawns escaping his young charges and he stands.

“Now dear children, I do believe it is time to move this into the bedroom.”

The Faunts whine softly but after getting assurances that he would tell them a story from his Adventure they file into the bedroom; all four of them lying down on the bed. Bilbo kisses each of their foreheads before sitting down in a chair cattycorner to the bed.  
  
“Now which story do you want?”  
  


He gets calls for the troll story, the stone giant story and from little Merry the call for any story with fighting. With a smile he launches into the Troll story for it had gotten two votes plus had fighting in it. He waves his hands around for emphasis on certain parts, pitching his voice lower for the trolls. The young Faunts giggle and are enthralled with his story and soon fall asleep. With one final peck on the youngsters foreheads Bilbo starts to leave the room.  
  
“Uncle Bilbo?”  
  


“Yes Frodo?”

“Have you ever met your Soulmark?”

Bilbo sighs softly, eyes clouding with scabbed over pain.

“Once upon a time a long, long time ago Frodo my boy, a long, long time ago.”

Frodo makes a soft ‘oh’ noise before settling down and Bilbo leaves the room. Yes once upon a time long, long ago Bilbo met his Soulmark; his Soulmark with long black hair and blue eyes who looks so much like his nephew that occasionally it hurt to look at him. Met him, loved him and lost him. All on a quest that brought thirteen dwarrows to his door, that took him to a Lonely Mountain. He glances down at his wrist and bites back a sob knowing that the round shield with a single oak tree is still there underneath the bracelet he wears. It’s taunting him with the fact that his lover is still alive but wants nothing to do with him.

Bilbo can still see the battle when he closes his eyes. He sees the cloudless sky, the orcs and goblins charging, the elven archers preparing to fire, the human warrior’s eyes hallow from the loss of their home yet hard with determination to beat their new foe and he sees the dwarrows. For it is the dwarrows that he is even on the battlefield; thirteen, stubborn, loyal, funny, lovable, messy dwarrows that he will protect to the best of his ability. When he closes his eyes he can feel the slight weight of the mithril shirt Thorin gave him, he can feel his sweat pouring down his face, the sting of small cuts and bruises forming. He can feel the burning of his muscles and the warm splash of blood upon his face. He can hear the screams, the shouts and the clash of weapons. He can smell everything from the copper of blood to the stench of bodies starting to turn out in the sun. Hell he can even taste the battle, as vivid and as horrid as the day it happened all those years ago.

Not that it matters anymore. He was turned away, cast aside with a parting lie that hurts him badly.

_King Thorin is dead. ___

They even said that the boys, dear sweet Fíli and Kíli had died… He only knows that they lied about Thorin for he still has his Mark. A Mark that hasn’t faded one bit as is the fashion of Hobbit Soulmarks. With Elves they vanish the moment one half of the pair dies for an elf isn’t long in this world after their Other has died. Men’s fade to where you can barely see the Mark but it’s still there. Hobbit’s… Hobbit’s fade away as does the remaining half of the Soul until the Mark is gone and the Hobbit has joined the other in the afterlife. He isn’t sure about what happens to dwarrow Marks.

With a soft sigh he doses the fire in the fireplace, empties his pipe and heads to his bed. He kneels next to it and sends a quick prayer up to Yavanna and Mahal that Thorin is safe and happy, that the boys are alive, that the company, his Family, suffered no loses then he climbs in and curls around his pillow. Eyes scrunched shut he can almost pretend that it is the soft fur of Thorin’s coat that he is cuddling. That the blankets covering him areThorin’s arms hugging him… Almost.

He wakes as he normally does; surrounded by four Fauntlings. Pippen has wormed his way into his arms, Frodo is lying on top of Pippin one small hand gripping his, Merry is curled up behind his knees and dear Sam is lying close to his back. He chuckles and slowly maneuvers his way out of the faunt pile. With a simple stretch he goes into the kitchen intent on making a yummy breakfast, after all growing boys need all seven of their meals a day eve if he hasn’t been able to stomach more than four. He hums a tune, a tune that would stop any poor Hobbit’s heart, what with the very idea of blunting knives or burning corks, as he cooks. His small charges wonder in following their noses like young ones should. They beg for the words of the song and he’s never been one to deny them something so simple, so he sings the song and laughs at Sam’s face and at how his darling nephew pats his shoulder gently. Smiling gaily he sends them off to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the others


	10. Thorin's Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin remembers and pines. Immediate sequel to Chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god all the support has helped this get written faster than ever. Before I was struggling with how to write this and then I read all those comments and this came out along with part of chapter seven. Chapter two is still being a pain sorry.

Thorin stands out on his balcony back straight, his shoulders stiff and his hands griping the rail so hard his knuckles are white. His blue eyes are troubled and distressed with deep dark black bags under them. He lifts one hand, placing it on his heart right over his Mark. The council is pressuring him to marry, to bear a true heir… that fool had been thrown out of the council meeting quicker than he could blink. His nephews are his true heirs; they deserve to be king more than he does and for marrying? Never, he will never marry, the only person he loved died in the Battle of Five Armies believing what they had was worth less than a stone.

He bows his head in grief, his Bilbo is gone from this world and the last words he said to his One were cruel and spiteful. It hurts him deeply to think he let the gold, the Arkenstone become more important than his lover. His mind spites him by making him remember the way hazel eyes had widen in fear, how the skin beneath his fingers had darkened, how his dear little hobbit’s breathing had picked up. A gentle hand on his shoulder brings him back from his dark memories, standing at his side his Fíli, darling Fíli whose throat bares a reminder how lucky Thorin is not to have lost him. His nephews blue eyes stare into his own eyes, sympathy and shared pain shining bright.

“Uncle, you can’t keep blaming yourself for Bilbo’s death. Even if you had made an alliance with the Elves and Men from the beginning there still would have been a battle with the Orcs and Goblins. You know as well as I do that Bilbo would have still fought at your side.”

“That’s just it Fíli, he would have been at my side. He would have known that I loved him, still love him.”

When he had woken up after the battle the first person he asked for was his hobbit. He wanted, needed his hobbit. Óin had given him a sad look that made his heart sink, had spoken words he hadn’t wanted to believe. His hobbit had been missing, they were looking everywhere for him even Daín’s men were looking. Then two dwarrows stepped up after hours of searching and told Balin of the hobbit’s demise. A warg had gotten a hold of him and he is no longer recognizable. Thorin would have roared in pain had his throat not been practically closed due to days of being knocked out due to his wounds. Óin had then sat down looking even older than he was and told him of his boys. Fíli was nearly decapitated with other various wounds and Kíli had an infected lash down his left side which even if it healed would leave him with a limp.

Fíli shakes his uncle slightly dislodging his uncle from his dark thoughts. He missed his Uncle Boggins but he knew that Bilbo wouldn’t want Uncle to never be happy again. Thorin claps Fíli’s shoulder.

“It’s dinner time isn’t it?”

“Aye, it is. Bombur’s got a feast set out tonight.”

Together they set off toward the dining room, Fíli’s shoulder brushing his Uncle’s in silent support. The Elves had tried to tell Thorin that Bilbo lived but after three near beheading they stopped. Unlike Elves or Men dwarrow Marks never fade, they stay as fresh as the day they appeared. It is cruel of the Elves to rub Bilbo’s demise in Uncle’s face. All thirteen dwarrows of the Company felt the hobbits death heavily; the burglar had snuck his way into their hearts. The ones closest to him after the Durin's, Bofur and Ori handled their grief by hiding away in their craft and the others take time to remember him. Bombur, in an attempt to get his big brother back to normal, suggested having Company dinners. Opening the double doors to the dining room they are met with the sight of an irritated Nori, the others are looking impatient.

“Oi, Thorin!! We need to talk!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all!!!! ^u^ And I'm sorry if it isn't up to par with the others


	11. Ori Knocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori stands in front of a familiar door waiting for it to open. He wonders how he will be received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of Chapter Seven. Hopefully it lives up to you hopes. Don't worry there should be more to this one as well.

As Ori stands in front of a hauntingly familiar green door he runs through every reason this is a bad idea. The main one that keeps cycling through his head is that he is here because of dreams! But Ori wants to see if it's true; is if the kind hearted hobbit who joined thirteen dwarrows to reclaim a home that wasn't his. He knows that his brothers live that Fíli and Kíli live, he can hardly turn on the TV without seeing them for one reason or another so Bilbo must be alive...Right? Which brings him to the next reason is a bad idea, what if Bilbo doesn't remember him?

The door swings open so shortly after he knocks that he wonders if Bilbo was waiting for him to knock. Seeing the flustered red face, curly chestnut hair and hazel eyes he can't help but smile shyly.

"Mister Bilbo?"

He watches Bilbo's eyes widen and worries that maybe his dear friend may faint as he did after reading the contract.

"O...Ori?"

Relief floods him as Bilbo staggers forward to hug him tightly. His mister Bilbo is as he remembers him, warm, soft and soothing even without talking. Bilbo was the first person outside of his family to never laugh at the fact that he knitted, never laughed that he used a sling shot instead of real weapons. And much to Dori's envy was the first person to ever get him to eat greens.

"Oh where are my manners! Please do come in," Bilbo shuffles back and the inside of the now two story home are almost as he remembers the smial to be. Hard wood floors and cozy decorations. He smiles at Bilbo who is hurrying toward the kitchen. Ori takes in the home as he follows Bilbo. He is surprised when he finds Bilbo standing in the middle of the kitchen with a stern look on his face.

"Do your brothers know your here? I don't want Dori knocking down my door or Nori breaking into my home in the dead of night," the slight tilt of Bilbo’s lips lessens the severity of the admonishment. Ori smiles bashfully, he brought up another reason that this was possibly a bad idea. His brothers knew, only because he left a note explaining where he had run off too. Bilbo sees the smile and sighs playfully.

“I will make sure to have two extra plates set out then.”

Ori shuffles slightly as excited as he is to have Bilbo back he’s confused why Bilbo accepted him so readily. It is too easy, his mind whispers and he fears this is all a dream. He jumps when he feels a hand on his own. Looking just as he feels is Bilbo, eyes searching as if to confirm that what he sees, what he feels is reality. So Ori smiles at Bilbo and gently knocks their heads together.

“I still don’t like green food Mister Bilbo, I still enjoy knitting and I miss the night where we sat around the campfire knitting and talking. I remember you helping find flowers that would let me express my feelings without my brothers overreacting. I remembered you Mister Bilbo and I had to see,” It’s the most he’s spoken in a long time and he tries to keep from crying. Something soft brushes away the few tears that have fallen.

“And I remember you too Ori,” Bilbo chuckles softly looking toward the top floor “I have all our Adventure typed up. I dream almost every night and every morning I hoped you would come back.”

“Would it be possible for me to read it, I wanna see the Adventure from your point of view.”

Bilbo blushes nodding his head. He hadn’t planned on anyone reading it but he could see no harm in allowing Ori to read it. And then he remembers why he was heading out in the first place! He needed to buy groceries! Ori sees his look of panic and fidgets.

“It’s alright, I don’t need to read it,” he says quickly.

“Oh no, that’s not what I’m worried about,” Bilbo says patting Ori’s arm “I’ve just realized something dreadful! I haven’t gotten anything to feed you are you’re brothers if they come tonight!”

Ori lets out a relieved sigh, only a hobbit would find that dreadful and it so blissfully Bilbo that it makes him feel at home.

“Would you mind coming shopping with me or would you rather stay here while I shop?”  
“I would love to come with you Mister Bilbo but won’t it cause even more of a scandal than me just being here?”

The smile he receives reminds him of the nights where him and Fíli and Kíli would sit around Mister Bilbo and listen to all the different ways hobbits courted one another and how they could court their preferred dwarf without him knowing he’s being courted. It reminded him of the nights in Rivendale where they would prank each other until Elrond’s twins got caught in the crossfire. They were so scared they would get in trouble but the two boys had smirked and playfully declared war. Seeing it yet again made him giddy and wonder who was going to be on the receiving end of Mister Bilbo’s passive anger.

“Oh yes, so very scandalous, but really it’s none of their business is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I just wanted to tell you how much I love every comment you guys leave. It makes me giddy and happy and my day just goes better. I don't know if this counts as self promotion but I have a tumblr http://forgottenchesire.tumblr.com/, cause I don't know if you can send pm's on here but I'm pretty sure you can there and I thought that if you guys wanted to give me a prompt to send it there and I'd try to write a story on them as well as whatever pops into my head. x////x


	12. Past Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great battle is happening. But is it past or future?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens when Men, Dwarrows, Elves and Hobbits live together. Man has gotten uppity and decides they don't want to live with Dwarrows and Hobbits. Shirlect is the language of hobbits

_Frantically his eyes search the surging bodies for three that his heart holds dear. He had to get to them, had to keep them safe. His love and his two children. He curses Man as he slices one down, eyes finally landing on a familiar blond head. A smile graces his lips as he watches his oldest child protect the younger. They are doing well and it eases his heart as much as it can be when in the middle of a battle. A fierce war cry draws his eyes to his love, strong and determined to protect his home, his Heart, his children. Bilbis fights his way toward Thorim hazel eyes dark with determination that quickly turns to panic when he sees a Man knock his husband down. A cry escapes his lips, his children Fílik and Kílik turning in unison, their own cries echoing his._

_He doesn't quiet know how but soon he is on his back, bleeding, hurting, not far from his husband. His stomach is the epicenter of his pain and he can't move. Can't stretch out a hand to grab a hold of Thorim's. He can't even close his eyes to prevent the image of his children being struck down. Fílik taking a barrage of arrows for his baby brother and Kílik screaming his pain at watching his One and Heart die before taking a spear to his side. Tears trail down his face. He's so close to them all but so far away. Above him the Man who struck him down laughs cruelly, sword gleaming in the fading light._

_As the sword swing down he tries to remember happy things. He sees Thorim shifting slightly as he starts the courtship between the two. He remembers the joy that bloomed on his Thorim's face when it was declared that he was with child, a child who would be named after his uncle. He remembers to the look of Wonder on Fílik's face as he stroked his mother's belly._

_"My brother is in there, Mama?" he asked in the blessed mixture of Khadzul ans Shirlect. He remembers laughing happily and saying that yes his little brother is in there. He remembers being so happy that after a risky pregnancy that Kílik was born safely._

_So blissfully lost in his memories he doesn't feel the sting of metal cutting his neck._

Bilbo jolts up, a cry bubbling up from his lips and hand flying to his throat. He looks around the camp, his heart settling when he sees Thorin and his nephews. The heart wrenching dream he had is already fading away. He settles down, eyes closing, heart lulling back to the steady beat of one asleep. With a soft sigh he succumbs to the call of sleep. He doesn't see the yearning, older than they should be eyes drilling into his body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the others lovelies.


	13. Worth the Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur searches for his Kin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a Fix it fic!!!! There is character death in this and it's canon.

He stumbles, side bleeding heavily, arm a useless dead weight, blurry vision around the battlefield. Each breath he took hurt, felt as if he breathed in dragon fire instead of air, each step brought him one step closer to collapsing but he had to find them. He had to make sure his cousins were okay. His mind jumbled he pays no heed to the young red haired Ri brother clinging to a weary Dwalin, to the silver haired Ri being held by Balin, he only wants his kin. When he stumbles across Óin he feels sympathy for the older dwarf, Glóin is missing amongst the bodies. His eyes sweep over the limp and lifeless Fíli and Kíli, together even in death protecting their dear uncle who seems so close to death. But on he searches, he needs to see flaming red hair and that funny hat. He needs to feel soft hands on his and feel work harden hands helping him carve. He to hear soothing words and that bouncing laugh. His kin, that is what he needs and he cannot stop until he finds them.

Resting he sees to figures approaching him, his heart lightens at the sight of flaming red hair. Soon soft words are whispered, _Are you alright? You're not too hurt are you? Have you been to a healer? I'm perfectly fine for having survived a battle Bifur... Where's Bofur?_ and his heart is racing again, he's found one but the other is still missing. He bids Bombur and Glóin well, assuring his youngest cousin that he will see Óin after he's found Bofur, and sets of again. He senses eyes watching his staggered movement and soon he has a Man and Elf on each side. Their eyes are grim as they help him look, never looking for kin of their own which makes his addled mind sad. They stop when he does, looks of concern etched on their face when he doesn't start moving again. In front of him holding a hat he knows well is Nori, the thiefs eyes are red rimmed and desperate as they land on him.

"Bifur!!! Have you seen Bofur?"

Bofur would never have left his hat on the ground. Never, it's an heirloom from his father. Bifur's heart stutters and he shakes his head. Nori curses and together they renew their search. They needed to find Bofur. It feels like hours of searching when they find him, he's pushed himself up against a boulder, hand clamped over his hip and arrows in his arms and chest but he's breathing. he's breathing and that's all that matters to Bifur who grabs him gently, his two guards helping him rush his cousin to a healer. It doesn't look good for him, the arrows had poison on them but he's alive.

Bifur sits at Bofur's side, Bombur and Nori are on the other side. They are waiting for those brown eyes to open. They've reclaimed Erebor but was it worth the cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as before


	14. Dancing Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo dances in a dream then angsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I have a thing for dreams?

In his dreams he dances with a tall stranger who doesn't feel so strange. In his dreams he feels at home so far from his plants and sunlight under walls of stone. The rough hands on his trace his face gently, lovingly, worshiping. The music is like a steady heart beat with pulsing drums that vibrate the floor. They twirl around an elaborate dance floor made of marble.

"This is your home now my One and I will keep you safe."  
And when the man promising to keep keep him safe leans to kiss him he wakes from his dream. Gone is the mountain that was warm and comforting. Gone is the safe feeling gone is the feeling of being loved. Gone, gone, gone! Now he's back in his hobbit hole that is filled with so many memories that it hurts. Oh Green Lady it hurts, he can see his mother bursting through the green door a smile on her face, he can see his father looking up and asking for patience to deal with his eccentric mother. He stifles his tears and cries. Baggins of Bag End don't cry. They are a very respectable lot after all. Taking a deep breath he begins his day, trying to ignore the phantoms that haunt his home, his memory, his heart.

An Adventure!! The nerve of that Wizard, the wizard who started his mothers venturing no less, to come and try to tangle him up in an adventure. Those things took you away from home, they made you late for supper. nasty things..... Though his mother always did look so much brighter when she came back from one, no matter how short. No!! Bad Bilbo. You're not a Took you're a Baggins... You cast aside you're wondering ways when your father died. Remember... respectable, calm, polite, no adventuring. No looking for Elves in the woods, no watching the roads for Men and no mining for treasures in the neighbors gardens.

There are thirteen dwarrows in his home!!! Thirteen living breathing dwarrows!!! Oh his mother would be so happy and his father worrying for his sanity. There is on dwarf that calls to him, rude incorrigible fellow who called him a grocer but his voice, the he walks. It calls to him. Maybe that's why he races out his door the next morning... Well that and the song. That song would have even gotten Bungo to leave on an adventure. But now he's on a pony riding off to what will most likely be his death but it doesn't feel like it.


	15. Jealous? Me? Never!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori watches Bofur and Bard. He's not jealous, he's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request I got fromgawaingreenknight from tumblr.

Nori is in no way, shape or form jealous of the Human archer who has his arm wrapped around a certain toy maker. Nope, not at all. Not even when Bard says something that makes Bofur laugh. His eyes don't narrow when Bard leans down to speak, his fists don't clench whenever Bofur laughs or smiles or touches the Human. This is not Nori being jealous, and why would he be jealous really? Dwalin chuckles at Nori who flips him off. Watching the thief get more agitated as Bard and Bofur get closer is amusing. He knew the two were just friends and he wasn’t about to tell Nori that. Watching the thief fight his attraction and anger is way too fun. Nori grunts angrily when Bard and Bofur lean in together.

"I once knew a fair maiden  
Who worked in a tavern  
She had hair of spun gold  
And eyes like Sapphires!!  
She kissed me and loved  
Me the whole night through  
But when morning came  
She was nowhere to be  
Found!!!"

The sweet low timber of Bofur mixes with Bard's voice. The band catches the tune and begins to play along. With a smile Bofur stands, bows and dances as he sings. Bard laughs clapping his hands, eyes following Bofur's dancing form. Nori feels a flash of red hot emotion when Bofur pulls Bard up to dance with him.  


"Oh! I once knew a fair maiden  
Who worked in a tavern  
Her muscles hard  
And her hands soft  
She kissed me and loved  
Me the whole night through  
But when the morning came  
She was nowhere to be  
Found!!!"  


They twirled around laughing merrily, faces red with laughter. People gather around them, clapping and stomping their feet. Nori watches as Bard reaches out and ruffles the hat on top of Bofur's head. Nori stands anger finally winning out. Stalking over to Bofur he joins in on the last chorus.  


"So pour me another round  
For she's nowhere to be found  
She's a like a siren  
In the mountain Deep!!!"  


Bofur glances over at Nori and smiles even wider. His anger soothes out and he smirks over at Bard.  
"Hey Bofur why don't you join us back over at the table?"

"Sure. Seeya Bard."


	16. Nori's News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori tells Thorin what two bastards did. Part three of Bilbo's Faunt's and Thorin's Pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short but I thought since I passed my math class [eight week courses suck] and you guys are awesome I wanted to give you a tidbit!!!

Thorin raises an eyebrow at the thief turned spymaster.

“Surely it can wait until¬”

“It’s about Bilbo.”

If he flinched at the name nobody says anything, he clenches his fists as thoughts of _his_ Burglar assaults him.

“What about Bilbo?” he asks tightly, refusing to let the pain he feels out. Beside him Fíli is stiff and Kíli who has joined his brother is looking pained. Nori’s irritation turns to anger for a moment before it goes back to irritation.

“We were lied to, Thorin. Those bastards lied to us,” Nori hisses, his hands twitching to hurt the two Betrayers. He remembers how he felt after the battle. He remembers the panic running through his veins, trying to find his family, his One. Not a single thought of Bilbo had crossed his mind, Bilbo who trusted him even though he was a thief, until he had ensured that his family was safe. He can just imagine the pain, the panic Thorin must of felt. He remembers following the two Betrayers who claimed they found Bilbo’s remains. He remembers how Dwalin, who followed him, nearly threw up at the sight of the mangled remains.

Thorin’s eyes flash dangerously as the dwarrows explode in anger. His Bilbo is alive!? What did those two bastards do to Bilbo to make him go away…

“How do you know this?” he asks, if they truly are betrayers than he will have fun slowly torturing them but he has to make sure. Nori smiles a venomous smile that would have lesser men quaking.

“You would be surprised what a little ale can loosen. They started talking about how they cut Bilbo off, he was coming to see you and the bastards told him you were dead; you and the boys. Fuckers knew about the debacle with the Arkenstone and decided that he didn’t deserve to be here,” Nori stops and takes a breath “When they heard you were looking for him, that you were worried they devised that plan to save their own skins.”

Thorin growls, so not only was his One far away but he owed _Elves_ an apology. Kíli’s eyes flash, his hands clenching.

“Show us the way to the Nori. Surely you didn’t leave them free?” he asks no sign of cheerfulness in his eyes. Glóin and Dwalin step up wanting their turn while the others crack their knuckles, even little Ori is looking menacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now. How pissed would you guys be if I had orcs attack the Shire making Bilbo have to flee to Rivendale with his four little fauntlings?


	17. The Shire Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not part of Bilbo's Faunt's or Thorin's Pain. This is a completely different story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a whole thing planned out for this. Well at least this chapter and the next bit. The Shire is attacked by Orc's and Goblins sent by the Black Numenoreans.

The Orc before him smiles viciously; the Shire is burning casting an ominous glow. Though the hobbits outnumber the Orcs, they don’t know how to fight. So with only the Bounders himself, Bilbo fights to give his friends and family a chance, a chance that comes too late for some. Behind him three fauntlings whimper, grasping at each other in hopes of comfort. The fourth, in the middle of the fauntling huddle, stares ahead his mind numb and face slack. He had watched as his mother, father and siblings were murdered in front of him. Bilbo dares not take a chance to look behind him, to try and comfort the young ones; he knows that the moment he takes his eyes off of the Orc in front of him it will attack. Instead he tightens his grip on his sword. Foul words spill from the Orc’s mouth, he seems proud of something, though Bilbo knows not what. With a smirk the Orc charges and Bilbo meets him halfway, Sting moving far more gracefully in his hands than it has ever done before.

Panting Bilbo pulls Sting from the now dead Orc; he turns hazel eyes taking in his dear fauntlings. Thankfully they are unharmed physically. He does not know what damage has been done mentally only that he hopes they will be able to overcome it. With a wince he walks over to them.

“Are you alright, little ones?”

With wide eyes the fauntlings tackle hug him, gripping tightly. He pats their heads, whispering soothing words, blatantly ignoring the pain shooting to him with each twitch of the little ones.

“Are we gonna be okay now Uncle Bilbo?” asks a small faunt with curly black hair and blue eyes.

“Why did they attack us?” questions the smallest one at the same time.

“Can you teach me how to fight like that!?” a fauntling with blond hair and blue eyes yells over the others.

“What’s gonna happen to me now Mister Bilbo?”

“I hope so Frodo, I truly hope we’re going to be okay. I don’t know why they attacked us Pippin. You’ll have to ask your parents first Merry…” he is able to answer the first three questions easily and without hesitation, like he does when they ask about his Adventure, but when Sam asks his question, low and soft clutching at him tightly. It’s very rare for fauntlings to become orphans after all. His mind reminds him of a time right after his coming of age that he quickly shuts out.

“If they will let me, Samwise, I want you to stay with me.”

Sam gives him a weak smile, lightening Bilbo’s heart and he takes a deep breath trying to figure out what to do. The Bounders told the fleeing hobbits to run to Bree… Maybe the other little ones families are there.

“Come little ones, let’s go on an Adventure to Bree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the others lovelies.


	18. A bite of Merry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short bit of Merry from Chapter two. Which may I just say is being a stubborn mule and refuses to cooperate with me at all. Getting this was like pulling teeth so I apologize if it isn't up to standard.

Merry sobs softly clutching Pippin to his chest. _No, no, no please Yavanna don’t take Pippin away,_ he begs the Valar. Pippin is his Heart, his better half, he can’t be gone. Gently he caresses Pippin’s face wishing that he’s just sleeping. Around him the surviving Men having gathered up the traders stand around him, letting him grieve but showing him that they are here for him. Then one of the traders lets out a gasp of shock causing him to look down. His eyes widen, Pippin’s body is disappearing, it takes his brain a few minutes to catch up with that thought and he lets out a shout. _No, no, no, no, no damn it you’ve take his life from you can’t take his body!! ___

The Men watch with sadness, confusion and pain as they watch the small body of Pippin disappearing and Merry, brave, strong Merry who has led them against so many things, ranging from angry Trader husbands to, now, orcs break down. When the traders try to complain about not moving the silence them with glares, their brave leader needs to collect himself.

When Merry finally looks up, his eyes are hollow completely devoid of the emotion his men are used to seeing. His hands are clenched at his side and he moves mechanically.

“Come on, we need to get to the settlement,” he rasps. As they move his mind is on Pippin. How and why’s dance in circles driving him mad. If only there were elves still… Arwen!! Perhaps Arwen will have the answers he so desperately seeks.


	19. Scavanging in Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've escaped Hobbiton and Fled to Bree, only it's burning too. Now Bilbo has to scavenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Chapter 17.

Bilbo leads the four fauntlings back to Bag End, his mind on when the screaming started. He had jolted awake, fear lacing through his veins as he shot out of bed and to the chest holding his sword and traveling pack. He shifted through the items pulling on his mithril shirt over his night shirt before pulling on a regular shirt. Grabbing both his pack, which still held various things needed for an adventure plus a very full pouch of gold, and Sting he rushed outside. The sight that greets him is horrible, homes are burning, hobbits are dying… It’s like the Battle of Five Armies, the smell of death, the adrenaline only there would be no back up, no dwarrows or Elves or men to save them from the goblins and Orcs. He had hidden his pack behind a bush before rushing to help those in need.

He shakes himself out of those thoughts and concentrates on keeping his Family safe. He could still hear Orcs and goblins about and he dared not use the ring. The little ones wouldn’t understand where he’d gone. When they reach Bag End he grabs his pack and turns the little ones around, it would take them a day or two to get to Bree, hopefully they would run into a few other refugees along the way. Pippin holds on to his free hand his large eyes taking in everything, making Bilbo’s heart hurt. They are too young to see this, far too young. Behind him are Merry and Frodo who are holding onto a scared Sam. He takes a deep breath, ignoring the stench in the air. They move quickly and silently though the dark, the boys whimpering whenever they come across a corpse.

When they come to a stop for the night, not as far as they could be but far enough to be semi safe he allows tears to run down his face. Pippin is attached to his chest as he sobs out his heart, Sam trying his best to calm him down. They had come across Paladin and Eglantine, killed and torn apart by Wargs, on the road. Pippin’s sisters are still missing but Bilbo has little hope of finding them alive. He pulls out his bedroll laying it down, juggling the two fauntling’s needing love. Frodo and Merry watch unsure what they can do. Laying them down on the bedroll Bilbo glances up at them before opening up his arms for a hug. He whispers softly into their ears rocking them to sleep.

He sits up the entire night keeping watch, adrenaline and fear aiding him in this endeavor.  
As he watches the stars his mind searches for an explanation. Why had orcs and goblins attacked the Shire? How had the Shire even popped back into their minds? Had they just attacked the Shire or had Bree been attacked as well? Oh, Eru, had they sent the fleeing Hobbits into a slaughter house!? He bows his head and prays to any of the Valar who would listen but mainly to Yavanna that they had been spared. Morning comes and Bilbo wakes the little ones, feeling older than ever when they make a face at the dried meat he gives them for breakfast.

“It’s to tide you until we reach Bree.”

Only they never reach Bree. Bilbo smells it before he sees it, the stench of burning flesh mixing with the scent of wood. His stomach lurches at the sight of Bree burning, of the bodies of Men, or Hobbits on spikes or hanging from tress. He blocks the sight from the children, Frodo and Merry don’t need to see their family like that and Sam and Pippin don’t need to see anymore death. He makes them close their eyes as he leads them away from the carnage. After hiding the small ones into a tree he goes back to Bree. They need supplies and ponies, if Bree isn’t safe, he hoped the other Hobbits made it somewhere safe.

His stomach turns as he makes his way back into town. He uses Sting to cut down Primula and Drogo, Esmeralda and Saradoc from the trees. Dear sweet Primula and Esmeralda who had their clothing ripped off, bodies stained with more than just blood. Drogo, soft spoken Drogo who couldn’t swat a fly has his stomach flayed open, eyes wide and unseeing. Saradoc has so many cuts on his body, it’s clear he fought to save his children… children who are thankfully not hanging from the trees. He buries them the best he can before actually entering the town. House after house, he searches for things he can use, for survivors. The houses are ransacked, most destroyed beyond recognition but in those numerous houses he is able to find four packs that are still useable along with some blankets. It’s not until he reaches the Prancing Pony that he finds anything of real use. Food, mainly dried meat that the orcs over looked, vegetables and some fruit. He fills the packs as full as he can, trying not to over fill them because the little ones will have to carry them if he can’t find ponies…

A quick search of the stables proves them empty. With a long suffering sigh he turns toward where he left the four faunts. He walks his head held high, trying to ignore the sound of hoofs on the cobble street, surely it can’t really be ponies… Stopping he contemplates looking into more of the houses when something nudges his coat pocket. He swirls around and comes face to face with a pony. Behind the lead pony, light tan fur with a white mane, are three ponies. One has long black hair with an equally black mane that he keeps tossing back, another is dark brown with a tan mane who looks very bored and the last is almost pure white with black sock markings. The lead pony nudges his pocket again with a ninny. Bilbo laughs and pulls out the apple he had placed there.

“Hello there…” he whispers giving the apple to the pony. The other three ponies surge forward each whinnying for an apple. He laughs softly digging out an apple for each, taking note that they did not have any of their dressings on. With a sigh he places his packs down and goes back to the stable. The ponies follow him eagerly hoping to get more apples. Moving with efficiency that is gained when forced to learn out of necessity not fun he puts the saddles, bits and bridles on all four ponies. Feeling rather accomplished he leads the four ponies back to where he dropped the packs, arranges the packs onto one pony then mounts the tan pony. Gently he nudges the pony into walking, the other three ponies following him. Coming up to the tree he is relieved to see that the four fauntlings stayed in it. Frodo looks down at him awe in his eyes.

“Ponies Uncle Bilbo?”

Three other heads pop out and stare down at them. Bilbo grins lightly and nods his head.

“How do you think we’re going to get to Rivendell?”

“We’re going to go see the elves!?” Sam exclaims happily, the fear and pain forgotten for the moment.

“Aye, do you need help getting down so you can meet the ponies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about separating the stories with more than one chapter into completely different works, like having a work just for Blibo's faunts. What do you guy's think?


	20. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a sonfic.... Kinda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Hurt by Christina Aguilera and I was like 'Wow this fits Bilbo and Thorin so well' and this was born.... I had to get it out of my head or I would end up sniffling everytime I heard the song.

It’s been nearly ten years since that day, that day that he lost the one he loved most. No tears fall down his face as he remembers, remembers as if it was yesterday. The gold had glittered so beautifully, bringing him in with a false sense of happiness, lulling him in to complacency. He had _his_ gold what more… the Arkenstone, that’s what he had needed even more than the gold. Bilbo had been there, his face showing all the tells that he was uncomfortable, that he didn’t understand but would weather what was happening because he loved Thorin. He had taken Thorin’s hand into his own, hazel eyes bright with love.

“I’m so proud of you,” he had whispered so sweetly going on to talk about how they could rebuild Erebor, rebuild Dale with all the gold in the treasury.

With disgust of the one he claimed to love, how could he love a being who didn’t understand the importance of _gold_. Oh Mahal, if only, if only he knew what he knew today back then!!!

Thorin’s hands shake as leaves the balcony he was standing on to retreat into his room. If he had known, he would have swept Bilbo into his arms. He would have kissed him deeply, soundly, ridding _his_ Burglar of any doubt he may of possessed. For it didn’t matter how many times Bilbo had saved them, loved them despite their crude behavior, tolerated their insensitivity Thorin knew that Bilbo hadn’t felt like one of them. Oh Mahal, what he wouldn’t do for one more chance to sweep Bilbo into another hug and thank him for being there; for not giving up on them and turning away. He would have forgiven Bilbo of any imagined faults.

He buries his head into his hands and sobs dryly, his shoulders hitching in his moment of unkingly behavior. Desperately he wants to hear Bilbo’s voice, even if it is just him scolding the dwarves. He wants to call out for him, scream his name to the skies in hopes of their Burglar answering… But he won’t. Not anymore and never again. Thorin knows this but he doesn’t want to admit on days like this. Days that have meaning, the anniversary of the Battle of Five Armies, Durin’s Day, the day they arrived at Boern’s… days like these are days he just wants to be alone.

He looks up, his eyes red, heart long ast broken.

“I’m so sorry for blaming you,” he sobs softly. The horrid hindsight of hurting Bilbo, he hurt himself as well. He threatened his One, gold sickness be damned, he isn’t worthy of his title but Fíli is still too young, too innocent for the throne. Taking it now will ruin him and Thorin won’t let that happen.

The door opens and his nephews enter his room, they curl around him, to comfort him and for comfort. Some days they can pretend they aren’t broken. They can go about smiling and laughing. Then they break down and Thorin is left to pick of the pieces, he has to keep them together as he struggles to keep himself together. Sometimes it’s too much for him and he runs into his room. Runs like the coward he really is and locks the door. The void left in his heart is too much to bear, he doesn’t want to say goodbye. Doesn’t want to leave the lie of, he’ll come back one day.

Later, when he manages to escape his nephews, his sister, and everyone else who knows how much pain he really is in, he wanders out of the mountain. Down to an Elf made glade with a single oak tree stretching its limbs up into the sky. He sits down in front of the marble statue with copper hair and sard eyes ignoring the dirt and the grass that will surely leave stains. They buried their Burglar here, out in the open beneath the oak tree. Figured he would like this more than the impersonal catacombs under the mountain. He smiles at the amount of flowers left in front of the statue taking one in his hands, he tells Bilbo everything he has missed, he asks him questions.

“Am I still doing wrong? Why aren’t you here to help me understand this? Do you watch me; are you looking down wherever you are? Are you proud of who I have become?”

He would give anything for just one more chance. To be able to see clear hazel eyes staring into his own eyes. Love, adoration, irritation, Aule and Yavanna combined there’s nothing he wouldn’t give to see any emotion shining in eyes long closed!!!  
It’s his own fault that Bilbo is gone. The gold sickness that he swore he would never allow take hold of him sank its dirty claws into him deeper than he ever though imaginable, and because he was unable to fight it to not fall to it… He blamed, accused Bilbo for so much while under its spell…

If he had just one more day, there’s so much he would do. He would thank him, hug him, kiss him… If Thorin had just one more day with Bilbo he would tell him just how horrible it is to be without him, how he misses him so very much. Just one day… but that’s a lie, he wouldn’t be satisfied with just one more day.

When he closes his eyes he imagines the battle, imagines what he could have done to spare his Burglar. There are so many things that could have changed but according to Óin it would have ended with his and his nephew’s death.

_”He saved your lives Thorin. When you and the boys went down, he attacked Azog… He didn’t make it laddie… I’m so sorry.”_

Tears finally fall down his face. Bilbo had given his life for the one who threatened to have him killed. For as long as he lives he will never understand why… It’s dangerous to play with time he knows but that doesn’t stop him from wishing just maybe Bilbo could save his nephews but leave him, the true betrayer to die. Foolish he knows, Bilbo would never allow him to die. Even know that he is gone Bilbo keeps him alive through the happy memories. Standing he kisses the statue of Bilbo’s forehead lovingly.

“Until next time my love,” he whispers turning back to mountain. He doesn’t see the single drop of his own tears trailing down the marble face making it look as if the statue is crying.

_Here lies the brave Hobbit of Erebor who gave his life for his loved ones. May his Sacrifice be an example to all, Men, Dwarves, Elves, Wizards of how deep love can go. Bilbo Baggins you may be gone but you will never be forgotten._


	21. So many Omega's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is not a happy Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... I might like Omega/Beta/Alpha verse's.......

In dwarrow culture Omega’s or males who can bear children are just as rare if not more so than women. The dwarrows covet and protect their Omega’s just as they do their women and children, much to the Omega male’s chagrin. So the Omega male hides his status, just because they can have children doesn’t mean they are neither fragile nor do they want to be taken advantage of. Other than Omega’s there are some dwarrows who can just tell when another is Omega, they are in fact drawn to them, normally by scent. They are called Alpha’s and they outnumber Omega’s and normal dwarrows.

So you can imagine the shock that Alpha Thorin Oakenshield Durin felt when he stepped into Hobbiton and was assaulted by the scent of Omega’s. It is only with the extereme control his grandfather and father beat into his head that he doesn’t acquire a very embarrassing problem right then and there. Hobbits you see are the opposite of Dwarrows, for them all males can bear children; they are a very fertile race after all, so Alpha’s are rare for them. Thorin’s anger at being tricked by the wizard grows as he loses his way not once but twice!! He follows the map that Gandalf gave him to the letter, trying his damnedest to ignore the pleasant scents that kept tickling his nose, but he still ends up lost. And to make things worse, any Halflings he meet fled before he could ask them for directions! When he finally finds the door marked with the dwarrow rune for ‘Burglar’ he lets out an internal sigh of relief.

The door opens and he can faintly smell an Alpha which makes his hackles rise slightly before he noticed that the scent is almost masked by the scent of the Omega in front of him. The Omega with lovely curly copper curls and dazzeling hazel… No! Bad Thorin, he is not pretty, he does not rival any precious metal! In fact “He looks more like a grocer than a Burglar.”

“Excuse me!!!” the Halfling squeaks and Thorin in no way compares the Halflings voice to a bird. Then he blinks, oh Mahal… he didn’t say that out loud, did he? And the meeting goes downhill from there ending with the “Burglar” fainting on them. With a tired sigh Thorin rubs his eyes, they were to take on Smaug with just thirteen dwarrows, two of which are most assuredly Omega’s… Mahal have mercy on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sames as the others loves....  
> Are any of you guys artists? Do you love Just Short enough to draw fan art?  
> I will love you forever... well even more than I do now.


	22. Bofur Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomfur loves his boys and they love him but a cave-in in the mines shatters their world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Don't hate me?

Tomfur smiles as he kisses his sons head. They are staring up at him, love in their young eyes. It hurts him to leave them so soon after their mother passing. Níli had never been the healthiest dwarrow but her sudden passing… He shakes his head as he bends down to look Bofur in the eyes.

“It’ll be alright Bofur. Ye take care of Bombur while I’m in the mines alright? Maybe carve me a few things. I know yer cousin is teachin ya how to,” he says clunking their foreheads together. Bofur smiles widely and nods his head.

“Course Pa!! Don’t ya worry!! I got Bom takin care of.”

Tomfur tilts his head at his dwarflings and heads toward the mines. Bofur looks so much like Níli, brown hair done in braids stunning brown eyes. And now he’s mastered her smile, any dwarrow he decides to court won’t stand a chance just like he never stood a chance when Níli decided she wanted him. After a long day’s work he comes home. The kitchen’s a mess and the windowsill is covered in wood chips. He heaves a sigh smiling as he cleans up the house, surprised yet not when he finds a bowl just for him. After the house is back in working order he sneaks into the boy’s room, kissing their foreheads before going to bed.

It becomes almost routine for him to be back into the mines and Bofur watching over his brother. Tomfur sighs as he mines, it’s monotonous work but it pays well… Well compared to so many other things he could be doing. His back aches as does his arms but just the thought of his youngest his Bombur smiling up at him as he holds up his newest cooking creation, just the thought of Bofur joking and holding out a new carving, washes away the pain. So he focuses on those thoughts. Then he feels the earth start to rumble, he hears the creaking. With panic he calls the code and starts ushering his fellow miners toward the entrance. Behind them rocks are falling, a cave in dear Mahal a cave in. Vorn, a new father falls and Tomfur stops to help him up. His gut lurches and he shoves Vorn, his hat safely in the youngers hands… how many lunch breaks had he bored his coworkers with the tale of how Níli placed that hat upon his head when she declared that she was going to court him, in front of him right as the ground beneath him opens. He falls, landing hard on his back, rocks falling on top of him. Wheezing he looks up, his mind already hazy with the pain. What would happen to his children if he passes? Bofur isn’t past the age of maturity yet. It hurts to breathe, oh Mahal, oh Aule, it hurts… Will Bomfur wait up for him to come home or will Vorn tell them what happened… will his youngest understand…? Will Bofur be able to handle another loss? Time crawls by slowly and it becomes harder to breath, his thoughts bouncing around spastically.

_“Oh Tomfur…”_

"Níli?"

_“It’s going to be fine." ___

Tomfur smiles sleepily and closes his eyes one last time. It takes almost seven hours for them to retrieve Tomfur from the mines. Vorn clutches the hat to his chest as he makes his way to his mentor’s home. His beloved hat in his hands, he isn’t sure how he got this job, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell the little ones… He takes a shuddery breath as he knocks on the door. When the door is opened by Bomfur he kneels hating whoever decided he needed to be the one to deliver the news. He holds out the hat that Bombur takes without speaking, brown eyes tearing up.

“No… no Papa isn’t…. No!!!!” the little one sobs backing away, Bofur rushes up his face hard. Vorn takes his hand leading him into the home as he explains, as child friendly as he can, what has happened. He’s shocked when instead of breaking down like Bombur has Bofur smiles tightly and thanks him for coming. He leaves confused not knowing the moment he closes the door that Bofur cries softly, just for a few minutes before rushing to take care of his brother. Vorn just heads home, gathers his wife and child into his arms and cries.


	23. World goes black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur rocks softly, carding his fingers through Bofur's hair humming a lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Bofur feels. I can't help it.

Bifur hums softly as he pets his cousin’s hair. It’s soft, always so soft like the eagles feathers that saved them from the orcs so many years ago… Or was it only a few years ago? Time feels the same to him, always has since he got the axe imbedded in his head. Brown eyes look down, distant, hazey and full of love he hums a lullaby for his cousin. The fur hat damp and sticky is laid aside as his fingers card through the brown silken strands. He holds Bofur to him, rocking slowly, humming softly keeping the cold air off of his cousin. Long ago when his aunt was first getting sick he made a promise to her, to Tomfur, to watch over the boys. And as time went by he tried to do so, Ionu didn’t care that he went over to their house often, not even when the children were born. She cared for them as her own when Tomfur died leaving them alone. Not even the axe in his head stopped him… Sure he had episodes but he apologized and they accepted them. He stops rocking to kiss Bofur’s forehead, ignoring the wet drops falling from his eyes.

Bombur has a wife of his own and sixteen children. He’s doing so well, the kings personal chef in fact. But him and Bofur, they got restless; the mountains seemed to close in on them. What with Bofur’s One rejecting him and Bifur needed to be out in the open again. Bombur had begged them to stay, that it wouldn’t be bad always. That Bofur’s stupid One would come around. They should have stayed, Bifur realizes too late. They should have stayed in Erebor where it was safe. Where there were greater numbers. Orcs and goblins hold longer grudges than even dwarrows. A soft keen escapes his lips as he hugs Bofur tight to him. He should have made Bofur stay with Bombur, he should have refused to go with Bofur, he should have done something!

All around him are corpses, dwarrow and orc alike. They were ambushed, attacked from the rear, outnumbered. He lost sight of Bofur for a second, only a second that shouldn’t be long enough for anything to happen. Then he saw it, he saw it and his mind went blank. Just like it went blank in the last battle before he got the axe. Everything is fuzzy now but he knows he’s supposed to keep his cousins safe. They always looked up to him as if he was a hero, always ran to him when they needed help. His humming stops, his rocking stops, his petting stops and he stares a head tears streaming down his face. He’s failed. He’s failed them like he failed Ionu. He’s failed Níli and Tomfur. He’s failed Bombur… He’s failed Bofur.

Some of the dwarrows they were traveling with had turned back, had fled. Bifur didn’t know if they had made it to a settlement or if maybe he had been sitting there long enough for the next caravan to come through… time is fuzzy, everything is fuzzy but it doesn’t matter because he’s failed yet again. He hears the anguished cry of one who sees their lover dead and tightens his grip on Bofur. He won’t let anyone take his cousin away!! Soon there are soft hands touching his face, the pads of the fingers barely calloused. A young voice speaks and he can vaguely make out red hair. Bombur has red hair… no Bombur can’t be here! The soft voice whispers soft words into his ears calming him. His youngest cousin is safe but they need to move. It isn’t safe out in the open. So he moves, remembering to pick up Bofur’s hat, the hat he had wanted to give his One.

He hears the anguished cry again, his eyes daring around to land on a familiar head. He doesn’t like his cousin’s One. To flighty, he had told Bofur but Bofur still loved him. So still clutching his cousin, so cold, so heavy, so hard to hold, he leans over and puts it on his head.

_’Family.’_ he says softly then the world goes black.


	24. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy Bofur fic.

Bofur hums softly, his eyes closed as he sways, an old lullaby forming as he cares for his youngest nephew. The child whines slightly pulling one of Bofur’s braids to his mouth to suck on. A smile graces Bofur’s lips and he chuckles.

“Yer just like yer father, always stickin things in yer mouth,” he whispers softly, love blazing in his brown eyes as he gently takes his braid out of his nephew’s mouth. The baby coos reminding him of a time long ago when he would just sit and sing.

“Hum little lee, Hum little lie

Lay yer head down

Sleepy one.

Hum little lee, Hum little lie

Let yer tears dry

Sleepy one.

Hum little lee, Hum little lie

I’m here to protect you

Sleepy one,” he sings softly just as he did for Bombur when they were little, both parents away at work. Turning around he sees three more of his nieces and nephews and a smile lights his face. Softly they call out to him, asking him to come into the bedroom and sing to them too. So he follows them, puts the little one, already asleep, in his crib. He sits down in the rocking chair Bifur carved for Bombur and Nurra and the little ones clamber into his lap. The other children, woken by the children awake, stare sleepy eyed at him, as he sings the soft soothing melody passed down through the family.

Bombur smiles as he looks at his brother, Nurra chuckles as she enters the room to unbury her brother-in-law. Bofur is fast asleep, snoring, his hat tilted, in the rocking chair. Three of their children, soon placed into their bed, are drooling on his lap, little hands, delicately unclenched, clinging to his shirt.

“We need to get Bofur to babysit more often,” Nurra whispers as they leave the room, a spare throw blanket placed on Bofur’s lap.


	25. To Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin dreams of courting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone for so long. College is kicking my tushie. BUT!! Winter break is coming up ^u^ so I should be able to write more.

_Thorim shifts slightly, his hands behind his back hiding the delicate gem rose he crafted for his Hobbit. Really as the Heir he should not be nervous about courting someone but Bilbis is special, he isn’t afraid to talk back to him. A simple hobbit is brave enough to speak for what he believes… His father approves of him, the few times the ailing king has met him, which furthers his nerves. Bilbis smiles up at Thorim, hazel eyes glowing with curiosity. Taking a deep internal breath, Heirs don’t get nervous not even when half the city including his best friend is watching, he presents the flower to Bilbis._

_“Oh! Thorim, it’s beautiful,” Bilbis breathes out taking the flower. Thorim beams with pride._

_“Bilbis Bagnis, I Thorim, Heir to the mountain, wish to court you,” Thorim says softly “I realize that we have two very different cultures and I will do my best to do right by you.” Mentally he cheers for not getting tongue tied as he delivered those words, words he practiced many times. Bilbis smile widens and he speaks in that beautiful lilting language of the Hobbits. ___

And that is when Thorin wakes from his dream, the dark night sky still hanging above him. His dreams have come one to many times for him to curse how they end, he’s seen them enough times to know how it ends. Mahal above it took all his will not to sweep Bilbo into his arms and kiss him senseless when he opened that round green door. But just as the others don’t remember neither does Bilbo, there have been so many times where almost called Fíli and Kíli his boys instead of his nephews. Almost back asleep he is brought back to the present when Bilbo jolts awake crying and clutching his throat. He watches curiously as his hobbit glances around the camp his hazel eyes landing and settling on Fíli and Kíli then finally on him. His heart aches as Bilbo falls back to sleep, he anger toward the hobbit is wrong but it hurts to remember a love so pure and strong that it transcended lives.


	26. Lindir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindir watches and hardly ever speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like playing with Lindir. He's such a cutie lol and I kinda feel sorry for him. All the gif and screen shots I've seen with him from the extended edition of The Hobbit have him looking so uncomfortable

Lindir knows that his love is fruitless and will never be returned; he knows this but it does not stop it. The knowledge doesn’t stop his heart from beating like a drum in the deep that surely can be heard by any Elf with sharp hearing which is, truthfully, all of them. The knowledge does not stop his face from flushing or keep him from beaming at any kind word his love speaks to him. Lindir knows better than most what is like to love someone who is love with another, to be in love with a person whose soul is already twisted and intertwined with another that they will never have room for another. So he settles for watching and waiting and just being there for the man he loves. Just trying to help ease the loss, to help raise three children who watch him with cold and knowing eyes. He isn’t surprised when the twins pull him aside and threaten to harm him, when they promise that they can make it look like an Orc got a hold of him. He isn’t surprised when the youngest gives him a cold smile and says there are more than one way to kill a person and not all deaths have to be bloody. He smiles each time, serenely and calmly, telling them that they have nothing to worry about, that his feelings will never be acted upon; after all, all he is a lowly minstrel and steward, not worthy of his love even if he wasn’t in love with another.

The youngest had looked at him with sad eyes when he told her that and she speaks gently, as if she hadn’t just been threatening his life. She asks him with those gray eyes that are filled with too much pain for one so young; if he truly feels that way that he is unworthy just because of his station. He answers her with a tight lipped smile, the only answer needed really, before he excuses himself and walks away. He watches the man he loves, singing when his Lord Elrond asks him to and wishes he could have taken Lady Celebrain’s place when she was taken by Orc’s. Wishes that he could take away that dark look on that perfect face by ensuring that the woman Lord Elrond loved and sired three children with never knew a moment of harm and therefore would still be with her husband and not across the sea in the Undying Lands. Later he will notice that Arwen is quick to defend him when her brothers speak ill of him. He notices that she finds reasons for him to be alone with Lord Elrond and it confuses him. The change in attitude confuses him. Not that the minstrel minded her strange and sudden change of heart. It is nice to have someone to help block out the glares and barely veiled threats of two Elves who loved nothing more than to spill black blood. Lindir knows he would not last a minute outside his home if he did not have an escort, he knew nothing about the finer arts of fighting so those two would have an easy time dispatching him if they so choose too.

So he watches the world, so very content to sing or play by his Lords command and maybe slip in a song or two that he knows the young Lady likes. And if his eyes notice love blossoming between two people… well no one has to know it is him helping them along right? He can feel happiness for others finding love while his will never be… Even if some of the people he helps are _dwarves_ who make a mess of his Lords dining hall, who throw food and complain about what is graciously given, who go _**skinny dipping**_ in a fountain and so many other grievances that it would take an Age to list. Though the dwarf with the funny hat is nice and humorous and the silver haired one was kind enough to keep his odd star headed brother from keeping a hold of a precious item that the sneaky sticky fingered dwarf swiped.


	27. Angel With a Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo isn't a fighter, he isn't the greatest shot but for the Dwarrow he loves he'll try. He's an angel of the Lady Yavanna, he's not meant for war but only Thorin matters now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Angel with a shotgunby The Cab(?) while writing this... It's where I got the title from. I suggest you listen to it while reading because I've noticed that stories I write while listening to songs hit harder when the reader does so as well but you don't have to

Bilbo tightens his grip on the small pistol in his hands. He’s not a fighter, oh Yavanna, he is not a fighter. His white feathery wings twitch and he takes a deep breath of stagnate air. No he is not a fighter but he won’t let his lover fight alone. Thorin stands in front of their army, his already serious face grim, as he delivers a stirring speech. Azog and his followers with their torn and ruined wings have been wreaking havoc on Earth for far too long!! He hides a flinch when Thorin says that the Valar have abandoned them to the foul beasts that not even demons allow to live. He flinches because for the most part Thorin is right, the Valar minus his Lady Yavanna and her husband Lord Aule have abandoned Middle Earth. Thorin looks his way and he feels the breath leave his lungs, not in the metaphorical way but literally. He loves that Dwarrow, loves Thorin so much that he is willing to… He loves dear Thorin who doesn’t know he’s an angel of the Lady. It’s amazing what a little bit of magic can hide from mortals.  
  
After Thorin gives his speech he walks over to Bilbo cupping his face with one hand. They kiss briefly, full of passion yet still chaste. Cold blue eyes stare into his hazel ones. And in those eyes Bilbo could see everything that makes Thorin, Thorin. He sees the raid on his childhood home, sees the brutal death of his mother. He sees the failed attempt to regain an old home ending in the loss of his grandfather and little brother. He sees his father’s decent into madness. He sees all that sadness but he also sees the light. His sister finding love no matter how brief, the birth of his two nephews whom he loves dearly, yes Bilbo can see everything that makes Thorin who he is and sometimes it breaks him. But in times like these he strengthens his resolve.  
  
“You don’t have to do this Bilbo.” _I don’t want to lose you._  
  
“I know.” _I can’t lose you either._  
  
Thorin nods his head and kisses him again; together they leave the command room. The battle will begin soon, Azog marches toward Erebor finally reclaimed and back in Thorin’s hands. Bilbo’s stomach rolls when he remembers the shot of happiness he felt when Bolg and Smaug, the two commanders that Azog left to occupy the large mansion, fell down dead. One with a small bullet to the head the other blasted with a shotgun. He will fight, he may not be made for it but for love he will fight. Azog started this war, angry that he and his men were tossed out of heaven and hell curse to wonder Middle Earth. Thorin looks over his shoulder, mouth open to say something but it is cut off when the warning alarm goes off.  
  
What happens next is a blear to Bilbo. A blear of red and fear and pain, he fights not only with his pistol but with the hand to hand combat that Thorin taught him. The only thing he cares about is protecting his new family. He’s broken so many of the Lady’s rules, just tossed them aside but it’s worth it. Then his world stops. Thorin falls in a cloud of red. He screams, not noticing that those around them clutch their ears, fall to the ground and if they are Azog’s men do not move again, and surges forward firing rapid and panicked shots. Most miss and those that do hit the pale creature just make him laugh as he stands above Thorin. The creature waits until Bilbo is close enough and moves quicker than anyone has ever seen him move grabs the angel in his clawed hand. Pale silver eyes stare into his and a cruel smile is on Azog’s lips.  
  
“Awww Thorin I didn’t know you were so desperate that you would seek an Angel’s help… And a useless one of Yavanna’s no less… Poor thing won’t be let back into heaven now… Look at his hands, they’re stained black… I wonder what his wings look like?” Azog muses, his free hand grabbing one of Bilbo’s wings, a lucky guess on Azog’s part but it breaks the illusion hiding them from view. Thorin gasps loudly at the sight of ragged white wings that are slowly molting. Azog laughs even louder.  
  
“Pathetic. Did you really think you could stop me Angel? I am a creature of death and destruction. The demons of hell feared me, that is why they tossed me out.”  
  
Bilbo spits, a snarl on his face.  
  
“You were tossed from hell because you disobeyed; Melkor hoped that you would get yourself killed. He wasn’t scared of a yellow blooded worm like you.”  
  
With an angry yell Azog throws Bilbo down, a sick crunch echoing around the three. The taller male stomps on the broken wings, revealing in the resulting crunches before he picks up a discarded weapon.  
  
“You like I, am mortal little Angel… And I do love ending the lives of Mortals,” he whispers pointing the gun at Bilbo and firing. Thorin screams in rage, his wounds making it impossible to stand. Damn Azog and his love for drawing out his punishment! Bilbo doesn’t move and Thorin feels his heart breaking, brokenly calling out to Bilbo ignoring Azog as he stalks over, like a cat about to catch the canary. He drags his eyes away from the still figure to the one in front of him when the clawed hand grabs his chin.  
  
“It’s been fun Thorin… Much more fun than I thought it would be.”  
  
The clawed hand releases him and Azog throws back his head in laughter which is cut off by a loud bang. There is no slow motion falling or movie perfect looking down at his stomach marveling at the now red area no Azog just falls leaving Thorin to stare confused at the empty air. Then there is a small cough and the sound of something being dragged. Bilbo lives, one hand clutching his stomach as he crawls awkwardly toward Thorin. When he reaches him Bilbo collapse and Thorin pulls him closer. Hazel eyes are cloudy and the shotgun used to kill Azog lies forgotten. No words are said between the two lovers as they share one last kiss. Thorin bows his head knowing there is no hope for his smaller lover but he prays that Yavanna forgives Bilbo and lets him back into heaven.  
“Thorin… I…” _I’m sorry that I never told you, I love you, forgive me._  
  
“I know.” _There’s nothing to forgive, I love you too._  
  
Bilbo takes one last raspy breath, a smile on his faces as hazel eyes close. He had fought until the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love every single one of the people who have kudos'd or commented and generaly stuck around!!! *big hugs* Sorry that my posting is so slow.


	28. Made of Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some are made of wax. He just didn't understand how that would effect him when he was a small Faunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Hobbits are like candles, they burn the brightest when they're in love but at a cost. The one 'made of wax' will wane as their 'flame' glows bright.

"Made of wax are we  
The few, the delicate  
The ones who burn  
And melt when  
Set to close to the  
Flame." His voice echoes through the halls as he rocks looking out his window remembering.

"Made of wax are we  
Waiting and hoping  
For the one who will  
Claim our heart yet  
The light of our love  
Burns." Remembering a time when his home wasn't so empty and neither was his soul.

"Made of wax are we  
The few, the delicate  
We don’t last long  
Melt and fade  
Once our heart has been  
Given." He chuckles softly though it's a hollow sound. Made of wax indeed.

"Made of wax are we  
Made of wax are we."

When Bilbo was young his mother would sing him that song as she rocked back and forth. Her eyes would be hollow as she looked not down at her lap but across the room to her husband. Bungo would always smile and kiss Belladonna's head telling her not to worry. He didn’t understand it than. Why was his mother so scared, why did she always handle his father like he would break. It was only after the Fell Winter that he understood. His father loved his mother dearly and their love burned so brightly. Bungo always told him that life seemed so dim before he met Belladonna. It never occurred to him before that horrid winter that his father, his strong, sturdy, pious, gentle father was the one made of wax. It wasn’t until he watched him fade away like a candle while his mother thrived, even as she drowned in self-loathing, that he understood. When the winter ended and they had buried his father his mother would sit in his chair and cry when she thought that he was asleep. It surprised all the other Hobbits that she didn’t fade as soon as he died. That she didn’t leave Bilbo all alone in the world sooner. Instead she gave him hope, that as the years went by that she would get better. She would still sing the song that echoed eerily in the Hobbit hole, only now she did look at him when she sang, her eyes dark with sadness. Then on the day of his coming of age she passed. Silently in her sleep she left him alone to be The Baggins of Bag End. He swore he would never fade like his parents did, swore he would never love at all.


	29. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Thorin to come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Angel with a shotgun

Fíli tries not to cry, he’s twenty three now beyond the age of crying no matter what his mother or brother says. He grips his uncle’s hand tightly, head bowed, lips moving in a silent prayer. He prays to Yavanna hoping she is listening to the prayers. His uncle loved to tell them of Bilbo, the Angel who loved him. Bilbo like their father died when they were young, Fíli could barely remember either. Just flashes of them. His father had gold hair like him but had little stubble like his brother and Bilbo… Bilbo he remembers a kind laugh, gentle smiles and a soothing voice. He doesn’t know if he really believes that Bilbo was an Angel but… right now he needs to believe in something. Fíli prays not that Yavanna spares his uncle and lets him live longer but that she doesn’t let him suffer much longer. After his uncle took back Erebor he strove to make the world a better place and he succeeded to a point. Uncle’s life may not have been long in terms of Dwarrows or even men; Thorin’s only forty seven after all, eleven years after Erebor returned to them. A hand settles softly on his shoulder making him jump in shock. He turns around ready to scold his brother or mother for scaring him but the person behind him is neither.

_“Oh my Fíli you’ve grown!”_

The person who speaks is short with curly brown red hair and hazel eyes. It’s the smile that clues him into who it is, that kind, loving and oh so patient smile.

“Bilbo.”

_“I’m glad that you remember me dearheart…”_

Hazel eyes drift over to Thorin, strong Thorin who survived a war but couldn’t survive the world’s love of irony, struck down by a drunk driver as he was coming home from the graveyard. His car spun before it hit a median then it flipped, twice according to the people who saw and reported the accident. The people he can thank for saving Thorin and giving him more time with his uncle. Bilbo walks over to the edge of Thorin’s bed. He lays his forehead onto Thorin’s tears streak down the porcelain like skin and it is only then that Fíli notices the wings. They are large, streaked with black and oddly enough blue. Bilbo strokes Thorin’s face gently, lovingly for a second before steps back from the bed.  
  
 _“Thorin love… It’s time to come home.”_

Fíli lets out a cry of shock and fear when his uncle sits up but doesn’t. The sitting up Thorin is glowy like Bilbo but he doesn’t have wings. A ghostly hand reaches out and touches Bibo’s face and a smile, a true smile with no sadness, graces his uncles face.

“Bilbo.” **You came for me.**

_“Thorin.”_ **Of course you oaf.**

And with a blink of Fíli’s eyes they are gone leaving him alone with the empty vessel of his uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can any of you guess the meaning behind the colours added to Bilbo's wings?


	30. Unexpected Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Made of Wax

At the age of fifty Bilbo Baggins is a confirmed bachelor not that anyone other than the Sackville Baggins held it against him and he even had a few *cough* only Lobelia *cough* on his side but his relationship with those Sackville Baggins were… odd… (They had a game of who could irritate the other the most… Lobelia wins hands down… Now he swears she steals his silverware just to see him puff up but that is a tale for a different time). He refused to travel the path his parents did and he has already written in his will that his lovely cousin Drogo will get Bag End upon his death. And as a confirmed bachelor Bilbo Baggins was not expecting a visitor when he woke up and went outside to smoke his pipe. Even if he was expecting a visitor which he wasn’t he wouldn’t be expecting a Man much less an Istari. But it would be rude not to greet even an unexpected visitor.

“Good Morning!”

“What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Bilbo feels his eye twitch at the ambiguous and roundabout answer to his simple greeting. So being sarcastic himself he answers.

“All of them at once, I suppose.”

The old man, someone whose face rang a bell but he couldn’t place it at that exact moment, frowns at him. The following conversations blurs when Gandalf, that’s where he remembered him from, speaks of an adventure. His mother always told fond tales of the wizard and he made excellent fireworks. Beautiful things they were but he has out grown the want to go adventuring and he tells the wizard so. Nope, no way is he going on adventures. After he closes the door and collapses on it, he tries to calm down. He tries not to remember all the adventures he planned with his mother, how much he enjoyed looking for Elves. He places the wizard and thoughts of adventures out of his mind, studiously ignoring the Longing in his soul and continues going about his day.

Really at his age he shouldn’t even have the Longing anymore. It’s unheard of even in his Took relatives. Yet there it is, that dull ache, that dull thump thump thump that hides underneath his heartbeat beating just a second slower, just a bit lower, telling him that he has so much he could be doing. That the world is big and he should be out there!! Go Bilbo follow the Great Road, go see the elves, go see everything that Middle Earth has to offer!! He cringes as he clutches his heart, the Longing is back, the Longing his mother spoke so lovingly of, the Longing that grew stronger when she first met Bungo though she didn’t realize it until after she was married and It disappeared. He curses the wizard for bringing it back after he was able to bury it deep. He shakes his head; he won’t let it get him down. He has things he needs to get done such as grocery shopping and paying a visit to Lobelia. Mainly paying a visit to Lobelia, she always made him feel better… Even if the better feeling had to come after he’s calmed down.

As predicted the visit to Lobelia made him feel better, he finally won a hand at their game. Apparently flirting with her is a sure fire way of getting her flustered… or maybe it was the fact that he insinuated that he wouldn’t mind a three some with her and, he shudders, Otho. He loves Lobelia to death, she’s more like a sister to him, but her husband is… yuck. He hums a jaunty tune as he cooks his evening meal, all thoughts of his earlier visitor gone. Fish and chips, an excellent meal if he says so, which he does and just as he sits down to eat it there’s a knock on his door. He pauses, his face scrunching up in distaste. To knock on someone’s door during dinner, unspeakable! Ohhh if it’s Lobelia trying to get him back he’s going to kill her. He opens the door making sure his dressing gown is untied and a minxy look on his face… That’s…not…Lobelia. He blushes deeply and quickly ties his dressing gown shut.

Dwalin wasn’t in the best of moods as he heads up the hill to where he is supposed to be meeting the last member of the Company. He didn’t see why they would need a _Halfling_ for Aule sake for their dangerous mission. Earlier when he was searching for the place he ran into a Halfling lass wearing garish clothing and carrying around a yellow umbrella. He had asked her for help and after being yelled at he was hit in the head with the umbrella! It hadn’t hurt much more than his pride but still she was the only one that approached him… When he knocks on the green door with the glowing rune he isn’t sure what to expect but it isn’t a Halfling with curly copper hair and a minxy smile on his face. He resists banging his head on the door jamb and bows to the hobbit. Why would a person he barely knows smile at him like that unless Gandalf screwed up and instead of a burglar he enlisted a… a… harlot. When he straightens up from his bow he sees that the Halfling has tied his robe closed and the smile is gone from his face, instead he is flushing deeply.

“Dwalin, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo says in response remembering the etiquette lessons his mother taught him should he ever run across a dwarrow. He moves aside without realizing it granting the tall, so very tall dwarf, dwarrow Bilbo dwarrow, access to his home.

“Umm, do we know each other?” he asks as the dwarrow who is looking about his home.

“No,” the word is more of a growl than a word “Which way, laddie? Is it down here?”

Bilbo grows flustered as Dwalin just drops some of his gear onto his floor and tries to shove the rest into his arms.

“Is what were? And don’t drop your stuff on my floor do you know how long it takes to wax these floors!? A long time that’s how long!”

Dwalin stares at the flustered Hobbit in shock.

“Supper of course! He said that there’d be food, and lots of it.”

Bilbo gives him an unamused look.

“He? Who is this he?” he asks before sighing “Well if you’re hungry I do have… some food.”

He leads the dwarrow to his kitchen and lets him eat his supper. He has a feeling that this has to do with that dratted wizard. His hand moves and clutches his heart, the Longing beating loudly.

“Are there going to be more of you?”

“What?”

“Are there going to be more of you coming here? I didn’t know I was going to be having company tonight.”

Dwalin snorts.

“Sure, that’s why you opened the door like you did.”

Bilbo glares at the dwarrow.

“I thought you were someone else, I… we… um… it’s complicated but I wouldn’t have opened the door as I did if I'd of known.”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow at the Halfling, Bilbo, and as he goes to answer there’s a knock on the door. He smirks slightly.

“That’d be the door.”

“Oh I know it’s the door. I’m not stupid… Although I may be if I thought that… that,” Bilbo lets out a rough sounding but musical word “would actually listen…How dare he!? How dare that…oooh. If he shows up I’ll show him just how a like I am to my mother!!” he rants softly as he goes to answer the door. Tonight is going to be a long night he can tell!!


	31. Origins of Angel Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air is cold and Belladonna is so very alone with just her small Faunt who won't wake. She sings softly, hoping to ease her pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a LONG time before Angel with a shotgun. Basically this is where the Valar decided they don't want anything to do with the inhabitants of Middle Earth and Yavanna doesn't want her babies to suffer so she  
> just sorta wipes them out and Aüle being the awesome husband he is build a place for the hobbits that become Angels. Bilbo is the first Hobbit to die signalling the end of the Hobbits just like Baldir's death is the signal of Ragnarok 
> 
> The song Bella sings is the lullaby version of Carry on my wayward son which is sang by Kansas (?) I don't own obviously.

Belladonna cries softly; clutching her only child to her chest. She screams at the sky in pain, in agony. She doesn’t care if she’s found. All she wants is her Bilbo back. In the back of her mind she knows that life isn’t always fair but her heart is breaking down crying out at the injustice. Gently she moves Bilbo to where it looks as if he is sleeping on her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair, tilting her head toward the dreary gray winter sky. Her voice is low and rough as she starts to sing.  
  
“Carry on my wayward son. There’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more.”  
  
The cold bites her throat when she pauses to take a breath. This winter has been the harshest she’s ever seen. In fact it’s one of the reasons she’s not in a warm house. They, her, her husband Bungo and Bilbo were hoping to find help…  
  
“Once I rose above the noise and confusion just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher but I flew too high.”  
  
In her you the she hadn’t believed that the world was just like the Shire, her home and haven for all Hobbits as her kind were often called. So she partnered up with a Man that she suspected was more. She was right on both occasions but what Gandalf was, was the least of her worries. The Shire was peaceful and full of kind, if a bit nosey, people and the hate she received for just being a “Halfling” by all but the Dwarrows worried her. In fact it is to the Dwarrows she was leading her small family to before Bilbo wouldn’t wake up…  
  
“Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though I could think I still was a mad man. I hear their voices when I’m dreaming. I can hear them say,”  
  
The called her mad when she returned. Called her insane for her worries, all but Bungo. But for all she saw and all she knew she was still naïve. To believe they could make it. But after the wolves invades the Shire she knew it was time to leave even with the wolves hounding their every step…  
  
“Carry on my wayward son. There’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your head to rest. Don’t you cry no more…..”  
  
The snow crunches and Belladonna tenses up ready for a strike.  
  
“Bella, love? What’s wrong? I found us some food….”  
  
 _Bilbo looks down at his mother and father holding the hand of a tall woman with long green hair. Protruding from Bilbo’s back are large white wings._  
  
 _“Will Momma and Papa be alright?”_  
  
 _The woman, Yavanna, bites her lip._  
  
 _“In a way they will be Bilbo. In a way.”_  
  
 _Bilbo looks up at her with large trusting eyes breaking her heart. There is no way she could tell him that the time of her lovely Hobbits on Middle Earth is drawing to a close. Her eyes, shifting like a meadow in the daylight, mist slightly. The other inhabitants were turning from the Valar, becoming crueler. Even her dear husbands children are changing._  
  
 _“Love… Oh!”_  
  
 _Turning around Yavanna sees her husband Aüle. His eyes are sad as they take in the small Faunt._  
  
“So it’s begun… Well then it’s a good thing I’ve finished my project.”  
  
 _Together Yavanna and Aüle lead Bilbo to a replica of the Shire. There are already some Hobbits living there, ones who have died long before the Fell Winter. Not every one of Yavanna’s children become angels but many do, many more than Men or Elves._  
  
 _“Welcome to you new home.”_


	32. One more time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short I know.... I'm sorry

“Tell me one more time, please,” his soft voice begs; the words echo off the cavern walls hauntingly. No tears trail down his face though he must be in pain, oh Mahal it hurts _you_ just looking at it so it must be painful…. Yet he makes not a sound. He’s so brave and you tell him so as you kiss his forehead. A hand reaches up and wipes away tears you’re not ashamed of letting free, there is a shaky smile on his face as he gazes up at you.

“Just tell me one more time.”

“I love you Ori. I love you more than the stars and the sun. You are my One,” you whisper, and if it hadn’t been such a dire time you would have patted yourself on the back for how you strung the words together. Chocolate eyes start to drift close and you whimper. You can’t lose him! Not now, not when you’ve just admitted your love.

“I love you too, Dwalin.”

He uses his last breath to say that and he goes still.


	33. Made of Wax Chapter Three

He yanks open the door, growling slightly when he sees that it is indeed another dwarrow. He has some semblance of the giant oaf eating his dinner. The dwarrow bows low and Bilbo finds himself bowing back.

“Balin, at your service.”

“Good evening,” Bilbo mutters opening the door wider accepting that Balin would be coming in.

“Yes, yes it is though I think it might rain later,” Balin says kindly as he enter the hobbit hole “Am I late?”

Bilbo smiles, maybe this dwarrow will answer his questions and be a pleasant guest.  
  
“Late for what?”  
  


Balin doesn’t hear his question or just ignores him, Bilbo isn’t sure which but he’s hoping that it’s the former, and heads to Dwalin’s side. What Bilbo sees next is an odd touching display of affection that absolutely hurts his head! How do those two stay standing after bashing their heads together. But at least he learns that they are brothers… Maybe the elder one has better manners… That goes out the window when the two brothers head straight for his pantry. Flustered and trying to remain polite Bilbo rambles and tries to demand answers, which as one can guess rambling to two dwarrows raiding your pantry doesn’t work. His politeness comes to a stop when the brothers toss his good blue cheese onto the ground and call it “riddled with mold”. Bilbo picks up his cheese almost squeaking in anger. He pulls back his arm ready to chunk it at the two thick headed, incorrigible dwarrows when someone else knocks on his door. With a mighty sigh Bilbo puts down his arm, the cheese still held tightly in his hands he stalks to the door. Standing in the door way are two young, handsome… damn it Bilbo don’t think of these in two as handsome, dwarrows standing there smiling so… no bad Bilbo they’re babies!

“Fíli,” goes the blond with an easy smile.

“And Kíli,” responds the brunette on and together they bow. Bilbo groans loudly.

“Nope, you can’t come in, you’ve got the wrong house!!!”

He goes to slam the door but one of the blooming dwarrows feet stops it from closing all the way. They exclaim dismay at the prospect of missing the gathering that has been apparently planned to happen at his house! Somehow he’s convinced into letting the two into said home and the blond one, Fíli, drops his “just sharpened” swords into his arms and Kíli… Bilbo sees red. He tries to remain polite really, he does but when he sees the Kíli wipe his dirty feet on his mother’s glory box all his politeness goes away. He drops the items in his arms and throws the blue cheese that he managed to keep a hold of until then right at his head.

“Excuse me that is my mother’s glory box!!! What do you think you are doing!?” he exclaims getting into the dwarrow’s space, hazel eyes dark with anger. Both of the young ones squeak, the blond like he wants to defend his brother or lover, they look alike but the way they move together hints at more, and the brunette whimpers softly. Dwalin clears his throat awkwardly. Bilbo turns around placing his hands onto his waist.

“Yes?” he asks sharply before taking a deep breath “Sorry, yes Master Dwalin?”

“I need help moving furniture around…”

Bilbo’s frown deepens and he taps his foot.

“And why is that? I’m all for being a good host however to do that I need to know how many I’m supposed to be having over!!! I didn’t know I was having anyone over so I’m already a horrid host for not providing food for you lot,” he rants. The dwarrows exchange guilty glances.

“There are nine more coming here… Did ya really not know we were coming laddie?”

“Master Dwalin if I had known I was going to be having company there would have been more than just _my_ dinner of fish and chips. Hobbits, not _Halflings_ Master Dwalin, are known for being excellent hosts and serving fantastic dinners,” Bilbo tells him twisting his hands; thirteen dwarrows will be in his home!!! Oh if his mother was here she’d be so happy. His hands stop twisting and one clutches at his heart. Yes his mother would be ecstatic and his father would be fretting over everything. While he is lost in his own little world, the dwarrows quietly move the furniture around. Balin waits for the Hobbit to come back down to earth however his reasoning on why he has spaced, overwhelmed and possibly frightened, are completely wrong as he is imagining possible scenarios that his parents would be going through. Bilbo shakes his head and gets a determined look in his eyes.

“I shall _not_ be the only Baggins that is a bad host!!! Excuse me Master Balin I must go make some food if nine more dwarrows are to be coming to my home!” he exclaim bustling into the kitchen shooing the Fíli and Kíli out of his kitchen to begin cooking. Dwalin comes to stand by his brother.

“I think we broke the Half… erm Hobbit,” Balin says causing his brother to chuckle. The boys peek curiously into the kitchen especially when a lilting and musical language starts to flow from it. Soon scents of yummy food fill the air causing stomachs to grumble.

“Master Boggins is the food done yet?!” Kíli calls out.

“ _Baggins_ , Kíli, and no it is not…. Is that the door!? Oh dear! The food isn’t ready yet! They can’t be here now!” Bilbo cries as he rushes to the door calling over his shoulder “I hate to impose on my guests but can one of you make sure nothing burns or boils over while I answer the door?”

The dwarrows exchange glances, what?? Fíli sighs and enters the kitchen. Honestly if it wasn’t for him and Dís, his and Kili’s mother, the others in his family would starve. Especially Uncle and Dwalin, Orcs cook better than them. Bilbo opens the door expecting to see dwarrows and instead he comes face to face with a smashed Lobelia and a flustered Hamfast.

“Oh, ‘ello Bilbie!!! We’re headin ta the Green Drag…. Bilbo why are there Dwarrows in your home!!? Bilbo there is a dwarrow in your home!!!”

Hamfast flinches as Lobelia’s voice reaches a high pitch at the end of her sentence.

“Bilbo if you’re trying to win our game you have… Wait… he’s kinda hot…”

“Lobelia!!!”

“What I’m married not dead, I can still look I just can’t try ‘em out!”

“Lobelia!!!”

“What?”

Dwalin blinks quickly before squinting his eyes at the swaying Halfling lass.

“You!” he yells when it hits him that she’s the lass the hit him with her umbrella! Lobelia blinks slowly clearly drunk.

“Oh, you’re the dwarrow that was sulking on the road scaring the fauntlings… Never mind you’re not so hot now… That one though isn’t bad but he’s a baby….” Kíli squeaks loudly.

“Who are you calling BABY!?” he yells right as Bilbo asks:

“Lobelia, how much have you drank?? And why have you had so much that you’ve lost your sensibilities?”

Lobelia squints her eyes mentally counting.

“Weeeellll, I went to Paladin’s but he kicked me out after two bottles… Then I went ta Hamfasts, he’s much nicer and we drank his supply!! I’m takin’ back my title! Who needs ta be prim and proper when there’s mead to be drunk?”

Bilbo sighs as he drags Lobelia over to a chair patting her head.

“And are why you drinking so much?”

“To get drunk… drunker… drunkest.”

“Why?”

“Otho.”

“Ah.”

Balin chuckles as Bilbo mother hens the Hobbit lass and the other Hobbit lad, before said Hobbit lad shoos him away.

“I’m fine Master Bilbo, it’s Lobelia I’m worried about. I’m sorry we barged in but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s alright Hamfast, my home is always open for you two,” he switches over to the language of the Shire cursing his annoying cousin. Hamfast chuckles softly.

“Think you can watch her, I’m cooking Supper and left one of the dwarrows looking over the food.”

Hamfast shoos him off and he goes with a laugh. When he enters the kitchen Fíli is masterfully manning it. They share smiles and Bilbo happily shares his kitchen with a fellow cook. Balin and Dwalin are in the sitting room with the other two Hobbits, Dwalin sulking and Balin chuckling once he gets the full ‘umbrella’ story.  
“So you were bested by this lass _nadadith_?”

“I was not expecting to be hit with an umbrella!”

Hamfast chuckles softly and Lobelia smirks.

“Master Dwarrow, Lobelia is very… dangerous with her umbrella so it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he tries to soothe the ruffled feathers but it doesn’t work. Balin goes from quiet chuckles to full blown laughs.

“Oi, I will have ya know that I bashed a Dire Wolf’s skull in with my umbrella!” Lobelia says swaying slightly “I think I’m gonna raid Bilbie’s mead and wine cellar!”

Hamfast rolls his eyes but lets her go.

“You’re not the first Big Person to be bested by Lobelia Bracegirdle Sackville-Baggins. And Belia bring me some?”

He snorts at the quick answer he receives in return. Dwalin grunts.

“Others have received the same?”

“Oh aye, a few humans wandered in and Lobelia was worried about them snooping and well… the rest you can imagine…”

Kíli wanders in bored of watching Bilbo and Fíli cook and catches the end of the conversation.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Balin laughs again and gestures the young prince over to him. Once the brunette is sitting he tells him what Dwalin told him resulting in two chuckling dwarrows and one sulking one. Lobelia manages to slip into the room just before Bilbo comes in to tell them dinner is done.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid. Mainly soups and quick foods but I assure you that they are just as delicious as any other,” Bilbo says with a smile. Watching as the Dwarrows and his friends eat Bilbo comes to the conclusion that he won’t kill the wizard just maim him a bit, just a bit.


	34. Don't Give Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found a prompt tumblr that might help get the creative juices flowing.  
> http://prompts-for-your-fanfics.tumblr.com/ 

Bofur hums a jaunty tune as he gets ready for another day at the mines. He didn’t need to work, he does have fourteenth of treasure but he needs something other than whittling to do. Bifur’s taken up herb mixing with Oin and Bombur is the head chef of the royal kitchens. The mines are in his blood, passed down from his father, his grandfather and so on. Its hard work but it he enjoys it, makes him feel closer to his father. He shifts his pick onto his shoulder, helmet securely on his shoulder waving happily to his crew and other miners. He’s almost to the entrance when a younger dwarf bumps into him.

“Whoa there lad, were ya going in such a hurry.”

“N…N…nowhere ticular sir!”

Bofur chuckles and ruffles the lad’s hair.

“Alright. Jus be careful runnin bout the mines. Tis a dangerous place ta be runnin.”

The boy nods his head and Bofur continues about his day.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Really Nori should have known something would go wrong. After three years of happiness, of not having to steal for his family, of not having to hide his affection for a certain miner, of not truly fighting with Dori he should have known that his luck was about to run out. Shakily he holds the battered and wrapped hand of his One. Tears refuse to fall down his face, he won’t cry, he won’t. He is Nori, is the Spymaster of Thorin Oakenshield! Dimly he knows he should be out hunting down the bastard who planted the bomb in the mines but he can’t bring himself to. His Magpie’s are out gathering information for him and he is grateful. Bifur and Bombur sit vigilant on the other side of Bofur’s bed, heads bowed most likely praying. Nori wants to scoff, he’s stopped praying to Aüle long ago but if it helps them he won’t say anything.

A soft groan alerts the three waiting dwarves that Bofur has woke. Slowly Nori helps Bofur sit up, while he’s focused on Bofur the other two leave them.

“Bo?”

“Nori? Wha’ ‘appened?”

He gently pets the side of Bofur’s face, the parts that aren’t covered and tries to smile.

“A bomb Bo,” he doesn’t bother trying to lie, not to Bofur who could see past his every lie even when they first met. Bofur groans again, eye scrunching up in pain and a cough wracks his frame.

“Casual….casualties?”

“Five confirmed dead.”

His love tries to speak again, mouth open to ask more questions, likely who died, have the families been informed and how many are still missing but the air just doesn’t enter his lungs and he ends up coughing harshly. Panic floods through Nori as he shouts for Oin, his sharp eyes picking up the blood that leaked out of the corner of Bofur’s mouth. Weakly Bofur looks at him, sadness and acceptances in his eyes.

"NO! You are not going to die on me Bofur. I have loved you since that moment you saved my ass. Remember? Back in Ered Luin? Those hosers where gonna beat me into a pulp and turned me in if you hadn’t stumbled in. Charmed them away with your humor and didn’t want anything in return,” Nori doesn’t even realize he’s rambling, still gripping one hand eyes watching the door hoping Oin will bustle in at any moment.

“Nori….love….”

“Don’t give up on this, don’ give you me. PLEASE!!!" Nori cuts him off placing a quick kiss on chapped lips. Bofur sighs and the start of a grin appears on his face.

“I….don’t…. aim ta.”

“Good.”

Bofur closes his eyes, the grin still on his face, breathing slow and labored but still there. Nori sits stock still, watching with hawk eyes every moment. If Bofur dies, the people who planned the attack won’t be interrogated, he’ll kill them all himself, Bofur is his shining light, his sun when the days are grim if they take him away there will be hell to pay. He only looks up when he hears Oin enter and smiles shakily. Bofur just has to survive the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll like it


	35. Serial Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His parents died when he was young, his uncle an cousin weren't kind. Now he lives all alone. Who's to know if he brings home company that never leaves again.

Bilbo hums softly as he makes his way down the hall. Bag End had been empty for so long, he had been alone for so long. His mother and father had died when he was thirteen and at fourteen he became emancipated from the family that had taken him in, uncle Longo wasn’t a nice name and neither was cousin Lotho. He didn’t like either of them, uncle Longo hit Auntie Camellia and Lotho did the same to Lobelia, and he wasn’t sad when they died. he wishes he had something to do with it but he didn’t. oh no it was all Auntie Camellia… He just might have mentioned a few herbs that would do the trick.

He pushes open the door with his hips, his hands carrying a tray. He had company today. A gorgeous young man with long black hair and stunning blue eyes. Says his name is Thorin. Lovely name, even lovelier person. He smiles as he removes the gag he has to keep in Thorin’s mouth. They’ve had multiple discussions on how it wasn’t polite to yell or bite and now Thorin was very polite. They talk a bit before Bilbo feeds him. Normally Bilbo keeps his victims for a week before he bores of their company and he waits to bring home another but his loneliness was too great. He didn’t want to ‘let Thorin go’. He didn’t want to see the life go from those blue eyes. But he couldn’t just keep him. Thorin could never really love him. He wasn’t stupid he was very well educated, he knew he was going to get caught sooner or later, he knew about _Stockholm Syndrome_. But that was a subject to cover another day.


	36. Bifur Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur remembers.

Unlike many of the Company he had no problem listening Glóin talk about his darling wife, Vonna. In fact he found it very refreshing just like when Bombur talked about Nurra and their children. He brings him back to a time back when he could speak Western, back when he still his Ionu and his two darling children Gomrur and Gronzur. When Glóin speaks of Vonna it settles his weary heart. He remembers the raid that took them from him. At night before the Quest started and he lived with Bofur in their small ramshackle hut he dreamed it. Thankfully while on the road the dreams stopped. Now though as they rest in Rivendell he's left alone with his thoughts. They'll be hear for a while, until the eclipse so that the Elves can help read the map. He doesn't bring this up to the two young dwarrows at his side, more like his own children than cousins, instead he lies down in his bedroll and prays that he doesn't dream or if he dreams they are pleasant.  
  
 _He wakes to soft hands on his face, Ionu his darling works in a teashop so her hands are always soft and smells faintly of mint. Looking up he sees soft emerald green eyes staring down at him, long chestnut hair falling down in waves waiting for him to braid it. Lovingly he strokes her beard downy and soft. Flanking her are the four boys. Gomrur and Bofur as the eldest two on one side twin smiles of mischief on their faces Gronzur and Bombur on the other the youngest with shy smiles. Sitting up he pulls Ionu to him kissing her chuckling internally at the boys sounds of disgust._  
  
 _“I love you Bifur.”_  
  
 _“And I love you my darling Ionu.”_  
  
 _He knows where this is going, deep in soul he's relived this day over and over. He'll braid his family's hair and they will return the favor. After breakfast he'll leave for the market, he lives just outside of settlement of Men who have settled much like the Men of Dale outside of Ered Luin. Men have more children than dwarrows and therefore have more need of the toys he makes. The orcs hit halfway through the day, Ionu is alone with the boys. A dark, cruel part of his mind whispers that she was acting as she did when she was pregnant with the boys. When they attack he rushes home, dodging orcs and men fighting, occasionally picking up fallen weapons to fight his way home. His heart shatters when he sees Gomrur laying face wood scattered around him. Fighting back despair he races inside grabbing his boar spear from the door jam killing the three orcs that were throwing themselves at the door leading into his room. Inside the room are the four remaining members of his family. Bofur is applying to a wound on Gronzur's side and Ionu, his darling, sweet, kind, his One is curled up in a corner Bombur in her lap. For a moment he thinks she's fine. Until he sees the red spreading out around her. Bofur looks up, tears in those brown eyes just like his mother's, Bombur takes more after their father._  
  
 _“I'm so sorry! I tried, I really did! Me an' an' Gom saw 'em an' told me ta run and get Amad an' da boys in da room. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't fast enough,” he sobs bowing his head._  
  
He jolts awake tears running down his face. When the Men and dwarrows of the mountain gathered up a party to go after the surviving orcs, they had taken children when they ran, he joined up faster than a dwarf to gold. Taking a deep breath he seeks out Bofur and Bombur. Bofur takes one look and opens up his arms for a hug. It's always Bofur who wakes him from his nightmares, the one who gets hit for it, the one who still blames himself so Bifur wraps his arms around him. In his broken ancient Khuzdul he assures Bofur that he still doesn't blame him for their deaths.


	37. You are my Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was her sunshine, he made her happy when the skies where gray but Mahal took him away

With tears in her eyes she falls to her knees. It hurts to breathe. Of Mahal, don't let it be true, don't take her Vili away. Please don't take her sunshine from her. She cries silently clutching one of Vili's shirts to her chest. She hears her door open and in steps little Fili, his golden hair glimmering, _Hahaha, sunshine my love? I don't believe that I am that bright. Too many hits to the head in the mines. Your brother would compare me to pyrite... Yes I know you're not Thorin,_ in the light cast by the fireplace, one arm holding his little brother to him. There are tears in her oldest's blue eyes, _Durin Blue... I do believe that has become my favorite color,_ and she opens her arms for them. She cradles them in her arms, kissing their heads. Poor Kili doesn't understand, he's crying because Fili is, he's scared and doesn't understand. Chocolate brown, _First sunshine and now sweets... Should I be worried my love?_ eyes dart around looking for one man in particular.  
  
“Amad? Amad? Where Adad?” Adad would know what to do, he always knew how to make Amad smile. All Kili has to do is find his Adad! A sob catches in her throat and she has to try to find a to explain to her two year old son that his Adad isn't coming home, that he won't ever come home. She pats down his hair, _Personally my dear I believe that you hair is the color of chocolate not my eyes. Mud maybe, not chocolate but you, your hair is the darkest chocolate refined and only for those worthy,_ hoping to buy some time but Fili is watching her with too aware for a seven year old eyes.  
  
“He's gone to sleep, deep in the halls Kili.”  
  
“Wake up. Not sleep.”  
  
What ever control she had breaks like a frayed not and she cries loudly, messily increasing her children's despair. None of them notice the door opening to reveal a haggard Thorin and Fili begins to sing, Kili joining in on words he knows.  
  
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when the skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away,” he sings softly patting her head as she does to him. Thorin drops next to his sister gathering all three of them into his arms rocking them back and forth. He can't take away their pain no matter how much he wants to. Sometimes he hates being King, not King father could still be alive he's still just a Prince, when he can't make his family happy.  
  
“Sing it to me Thorin... Please...”  
  
He starts and looks down at Dis and nods his head.  
  
“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke dear, I was mistaken, so I bowed my head and I cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don't take my sunshine away. I've always loved you and made you happy, and nothing could come between. But if you leave me to love another, you'll regret it all one day. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don't take, my sunshine away,” he sings softly, his voice low and deep as his deep blue eyes close. He never approved of Vili, went out of his way to show how he felt about a miner marrying his sister, was jealous of the man who could get his sister to smile and laugh again... And it all started when she caught him singing that song under his breath. From there he lost his dearest sister to a poor miner of the Broadbeam clan. Not even the birth of his nephew made him approve of the golden haired male. Vili had taken his sister away from and now a mine collapse has taken him from her.  
  
The funeral arrangements took a lot out of his sister, no matter how much he tried to shield her from the well wishers and politicians. Dis becomes a shade of herself, barely living, he doesn't doubt that if it hadn't been for her two boys he would have lost the last of his family. The funeral is large worthy of a Princess's Consort, worthy of the One of Dis. It was the least he could do for her. He knows that Vili is gone he does yet there were times he would catch Dis smiling, barely there just an up turn of her lips, and she will turn around as if to speak to someone. _Did you hear that Vil... Oh I just heard that Nurra was going to have another one I so happ..._ But it isn't until a bad day of useless Council meetings with rude and ungrateful Council Members, where he storms into the common rooms of the 'royal hall' rant already passing from his lips as he paces that he stops and stares at the chair where he would be sitting Fili sitting at his feet and Kili on his lap as he carves that he stops. How many times had he taken his anger out on Vili, how many times had he ranted to him. Shakily he sinks down into the chair opposite of Vili's and buries his face in his hands.  
  
Years pass and Dis becomes like she once was, before Vili but after Erebor was lost. Not whole but not shattered. And he ruins it by bringing up taking back their ancestral home. She screams at him, yells, throws things at him. Fili and Kili are now old enough to come with him, the main cause of her distress, they want to come with him along with three other Broadbeams. He finds her later at Vili's grave eyes red and her shoulders shaking. Her voice echoes eerily as she sings.  
  
“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke dear, I was mistaken, So I bowed my head and I cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, When skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don't take, my sunshine away. I've always loved you and made you happy, and nothing else could come between. But now you've left me, you have shattered all my dreams. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, When Skies are gray. You'll never know dear, How much I love you. So please don't take, My Sunshine away.”  
  
He takes a step toward her arm reaching out to bring her into a hug.  
  
“I don't know what to do Vili. They want to leave me... I can't handle losing them... I've lost everyone else... I wish you were here, you'd know what to do.”  
  
Dis turns toward him and he stops, arm hovering in the air. Dis walks up to him bringing him into a hug.  
  
“You bring them back to me, you hear Thorin Oakenshield. You bring yourself home too.”  
  
“I'll try my best.”


	38. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vili is the silent shadow. He doesn't speak but he sees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this post http://forgottenchesire.tumblr.com/post/92054732361/marisdrawings-random-doodles-part-87-shhh#notes and a couple days later this popped into my head... Tried to not use to much of the script that is in it but kinda failed.

Vili doesn't talk much, he hasn't any need really. His darling wife and commanding Brother in laws do the talking for him. Instead he stands back and watches. He speaks when it's needed and has to clamp his mouth shut on others. He has a secret he doesn't want out. He can see the future. When his wife became pregnant he knew it would be a male, a golden haired lion the first Omega to grace the Line of Durin. And when his youngest was born he knew that Kili would be his last child, that the brown haired Alpha would bring honor and mischief to the family.

He swallows thickly as he rocks, arms curled lovingly around his son a low hum escaping his throat. Big brown eyes stare up at him sleepily and he smiles softly.  
“ _Hush my little one. Close your eyes and sleep. Just for a little while,_ ” he sings cheering internally when Kili finally falls asleep. Gently he places the young boy into his crib trying to will away his tears. Tonight, gods tonight will be his last. He's going to miss his boys, going to miss watching them play, laugh, but most importantly he's going to miss watching them grow up. The door creaks open and he lifts his head. Standing in the door way is his oldest, wild blond hair and Durin blue eyes Fili tiptoes into the room.

“What are you doing up my boy?”

“I had a bad dream... Do you really have to leave??”

Flashes of the battle to come rampage in his mind. Blood, gore, loss all prominent in each vignette. He takes a deep breath and forces out a chuckle.

“Aye that I do lad. They need a big strong dwarf like me in the battle.”

Fili's blue eyes stare up into his and they seem so much darker when he asks:

“You'll come home right?”

“Of course!! I can't leave you and your brother and mother alone."

Pain flashes quickly in blue eyes before small hands reach out and grabs his face.

“Then why are you crying?”

His breath catches and he brings Fili into a tight hug.

“Because I'm going to miss you,” he lies.


	39. Babes in The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two babes in the woods are found by an Elf just out of childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This motherfucker was supposed to have been happy but no. It decided to be a butthead and become sad. The lyric's in italics are an actual song/ nursery rhyme thing called Babes in The Wood.

_Oh, don't you remember, a long time ago,_  
 _Those two little babies, their names I don't know_  
 _They were stolen away one bright, summer's day_ br /> _And left in a wood, so I've heard folks say._

Lindir often walks in the forest surrounding Rivendell. His voice ringing out softly as he sings and clears his mind. So it takes him by surprise when a young voice calls out. He follows the yells for 'Help' and 'Mama' not caring that his robes are tearing or that he is getting sticks caught in his hair. He still remembers the warning told to the few elflings born. Not to go out into the forest, the songs that grieving mothers often sing. Finally he stumbles across the ones crying out and he stares. Their not elflings like he thought but little dwarflings. The oldest can't be more than eleven years old with long blond hair, he's clutching the youngest, maybe six, to him, patting the boy's brown hair. Slowly so he doesn't scare them, he approaches. Words soft and kind he brings both of them into his arms.

_Pretty babes in the wood_   
_Pretty babes in the wood_   
_Oh, don't you remember_   
_Those babes in the wood_

He gets their story as he carefully brings them home. Bad Men stole them from their mother and uncle. Bad Men hurt them and left them in the forest. They are scared and want to go home. He kisses their forehead and promises them that he'd do everything in his power to get them home. Only he doesn't hear the Bad Men following him. Only he doesn't realize just how far from Rivendell he's gotten.

_Now the day being gone and the night coming on_   
_Those two little babies sat under a stone_   
_They sobbed and they sighed, they sat there and cried_   
_Those two little babies they laid down and died_

With no weapon to protect them he falls quickly. Watching in fear as the Bad Men punish the little dwarflings for running away. He tries to stand, tries make them stop. But his hit back to the ground and the Bad Men make the little ones watch as the lead Bad Men raise their sword and brings it down on his back. A scream bubbles up in his throat and the world black out.

_Pretty babes in the wood_   
_Pretty babes in the wood_   
_Oh, don't you remember_   
_Those babes in the wood_

The patrol finds three bodies curled under a weeping willow tree. Two dwarflings clutching at a pale and unmoving Elf. Blond and black and brown mix so unpleasantly with red and the leading elf falls to his knees. Shakily he reaches out a hand, golden blond head bowed as he cries. As he screams in anguish when he fells no pulse in the young one he adopted. His screams disrupt the birds in the trees and they go flying in the air.

_Now the robins so red, how swiftly they sped_   
_They put out their wide wings and over them spread_   
_And all the day long on the branches they throng_   
_They sweetly did whistle and this was their song_

There is much mourning in Rivendell. Gone is the aspiring young minstrel, gone is the child of Erestor and Glofindel. They send out letters to the dwarven kingdoms, describing the little ones found at Lindir's side. Two months latter a proud dwarven woman rides up to the last Homely home and breaks down at the sight of her children the heirs of Durin. Mourning wails fill the city and mothers whisper softly to each other Babes lost in the woods.

_Pretty babes in the wood_  
 _Pretty babes in the wood_  
 _Oh, don't you remember_  
 _Those babes in the wood_  



	40. Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had an awesome thought for this and then it kinda puttered off. If you guys like it I'll try to write more

Not many truly know anything about hobbits. It's not that they purposely hide, no one ever wants to know about them. If they ever took the time they would know that while they had the initial Wolfe form that all Middle Earthlings have they have a secondary form as well. These secondary forms depend on the hobbit themselves and are only accessible when the hobbits come of age. People would also know that every time that they called hobbits halflings said normally kind and gentle creatures were imagining their very painful death. Hobbits are not half of anything thank you very much. Another thing that outsiders would learn if they cared to look is that hobbits don't eat seven meals a day due to just loving a good meal. Oh no, they eat that much because they have a highly active metabolism developed by years on wandering and having very little food. Then there is the interesting tibit that hobbits are fertile. Very fertile. Even the males. It's one of the reasons there are so many of them. Hobbits can reproduce like rabbits and unless your in one of the more respectable families they don't care if your in a same sex relationship. And one mustn't forget the Lady Yavanna and the Heart she gives them, the Longing that pulls them along. But that is a very big secret to the hobbits. So lets leave that alone for a bit yes? Instead lets get on with our story! A story about one Bilbo Baggins and his thirteen dwarves.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Bilbo couldn't quite believe that he had ran out his darling smial to chase after thirteen dwarves who had so rudely invaded his home, but here he is trying to fall asleep on the hard ground. Part of him wants to shed his clothes and change into his secondary form but none of the others have so he won't. He knows that they don't like him very much and maybe it's a dwarf thing not to use their secondary form to make traveling easier so he will try and copy them. Just like he's cut back on his meals. It's dangerous but maybe he'll get used to it. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, it's a lot of maybe's. His eyes look up at the sky, tracing constellations, trying to tire his mind out. It's not working... at all. There's a rustling in the bushes to his right and his eyes dart over to it. Staring out from the bushes are two glowing eyes, cunning honey coloured eyes. There is second between him spotting those eyes and the body they belong to moving out of the bush. At the sight of the dark chocolate coloured Arabian Wolf that steps out of the bush he groans then looks to make sure the dwarf on watch hasn't spotted her. He gives her a very unimpressed look.

“Really Lobelia?” he mutters softly. Lobelia huffs and looks down her snout at him, she's one of the few hobbit's whose secondary form is still a wolf. Most hobbit's secondary forms are herbivores, small omnivores and birds. On the rare occasion are they carnivores. “You can't seriously be out here! What about Lotho and dear Yavanna I can just hear the rant Otho is going to spew when you.... Lobelia?”

During his rant Lobelia had looked down embarrassed and when her husband was mentioned she flinched. Oh dear. He crawls out of his bedroll and towards her. Reaching out his hand he pets her head gently, lovingly.

“What's wrong dear?”

She gives him a depressed look and the bush rustles again this time a wolf pup and a dingo, the dingo trying to catch the wolf pup. Oh. Oh. He kisses her muzzle, her and Otho are no longer a couple. Disgusting really but it is Otho. He glances over at the pup and shakes his head.

“The wilds are no place for a faunt Lobelia you know that. And Hamfast really? What would Bell say? All three of you head back.”

At that Lobelia gives him a defiant look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm trying to write more on this one. I kinda want to add Bell and the two youngest boys but I have no clue how to work it or if y'all will want them added. What do you think?


	41. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia and Hamfast are discoved. Part two of the Chapter before this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I just say these look so much longer in Word

Bilbo hides his head in his hands and groans softly. This is bad, so very bad. They didn't have enough food to feed three extra mouths and there is no way that Lobelia will let Lotho miss even one meal. Hamfast having finally caught Lotho, who has Bofur's hat in his mouth, drags the wolf pup back to Lobeila. As gently as he can Bilbo takes Bofur's hat out of Lotho's mouth, bopping the faunt on the nose.

“You three really can't stay here,” Bilbo says his voice straining. Not only will he have Otho breathing down his neck if Hamfast gets one scatch on him Bell will skin him alive and keep him alive as she slowly cooks him. As if sensing his thoughts Hamfast gives him a sheepish look. Lotho finally tired of being in his wolfe form shifts back into his faunt form. The breath in Bilbo's throat catches, he knew his cousin and even his uncle on his father's side of the family was awful but the bruise he sees on Lotho's face... He looks back up at Lobelia who nods grimly, this is the main reason that she won't go back. To hit a child, Bilbo takes in a deep breath trying to calm down, is the most disgusting thing in the world. Children are precious, to be treasured and loved not hit. The only thing that comes close to hitting a child is hitting or mistreating your Heart.

“Bag End is always open for you and Hamfast, always even if I am not in it.”

His words gain him an uncomfortable dog pile and lots of lick. He grunts softly and when he looks up his eyes widen. Oh dear. Staring with, under any other circumstance would be hilariously, wide eyes is Dwalin. Lobelia notices his staring and growls low in her throat at the hulking dwarf. Hafast moves over to Lotho who is back in his wolfe form and cowering down. Dwalin's hand is on one of his hammers and Bilbo tries to stand up, Lobelia's paw on his chest is preventing that though. It brings back memories of darker and colder times before he had gotten his second form and had trouble shifting with out the light of the full moon. When she lost enough to trigger her first second form change before her coming of age. He reaches out and pets Lobelia's fur.

“Shh, Belia old girl. He isn't going to hurt me,” he whispers soothingly. Lobelia grunts and takes her paw off of him. She issues a sharp bark that wakes the dwarves but brings Hamfast and Lotho to her side where they lay down beside Bilbo who smiles rather unconvincingly.

“It seems we have gained two hunters to our group,” he aims for light but he doesn't think he manages it if the dark glare Thorin throws at him is any indication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I add in Bell?


	42. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's scared, alone and orphaned. Being treated like a pet by the Orcs who killed his family he waits to saved.

He screams, loudly and shrilly as the Orc's charge at the small group of Elves surrounding him. He's the youngest, the only child, only a child not prepared for the blood that was about to be spilled. When ordered he hides, cowering down watching as his mother and father fight off the vile Orcs watching as they die. A cold and clammy hand grabs his ankle and dragging him from his hiding spot. Tears flow down his face and he whimpers as the Orc looks down at him. He doesn't want to die! The Orc laughs, hands wandering where they shouldn't and for a moment he wonders if maybe death would be a more preferable option. It's hard to breath, so hard to breath, he doesn't... Oh Eru don't let this be real. Harsh words make his eyes snap open, he didn't understand any of them but the tone alone caused another shiver to race down his back. The Orc's are moving and he's still alive and unharmed, whether that was a blessing or not he wasn't sure.

 

_“Be still young one. We mean you no harm. My name is Glorfindel, my friend is Erestor, he will watch over you.”_

With that the blond Elf, Glorfindel, rejoins the fight. Erestor, a dark brown haired Elf who reminds him so much of his mother, draws him into a loose hug, a hug he leans into. Words spill from his mouth as Erestor pats his hair.

_“Hush little one. You are not alone. While they will never replace the ones you lost there will be people who want to take you in... Now you know my name but I don't believe I've learned yours.”_

_“Lindir... Will you be one of the ones?”_

_“If you want me to be.”_

He nods his head his head, straining the rope as he tries to climb into the other Elf's lap. With a quick move Erestor cuts the rope and pulls him into his lap.

_“I have you Lindir. You're safe in my arms.”_

The battle ends, not that he knew it ended, and Erestor carefully carries him to their home. Rivendell. His hazy mind goes into overdrive as he sees the beautiful city. His parents were nomadic Elves but he had been told of the splendor of Rivendell. When he sees the Lord of the Last Homely House his heart beats loudly. He's in love. Behind him is a beautiful lady, the Lady of the Last Homely House wife of Elrond mother or Elrond's children. This is to be his home now.


	43. One Blond, Two Blond, Three Blond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three blonds that the line of Durin remembers most and holds dear. Frerin, Vili and Fili. They agree on how to see two of the three but no one knows how to react around Fili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize before hand if the flow is off or choppy. My way of thinking is choppy like this and has no linear timeline, which is why I plan every paragraph of my stories and it takes a long time to get them written if they are more than a one shot.

He was the free one. The one who got to do what ever he wanted, could get away with every thing. He was golden and pure always looking on the brighter side of things. Until he died, alone and surrounded by the bodies of slayed Orcs and Dwarves. He was the golden Mocking Bird that shouldn't have been on the battlefield. Darling Frerin taken away too soon.

He was the pillar that didn't know it was needed. The one that Dis turned to, to laugh, to cry with. The one who gave hesitant advice that he expected to be ignored. The one who listened and never judged. He was golden and rough around the edges always trying to prove himself Until he died, alone and scared, probably calling out for help that never came. He was the golden Canary who fell in the mines. Daring Vili stolen away too soon.

Thorin looks down at his nephew, golden hair and blue eyes and remembers the other blonds that graced the line of Durin be it by birth or marriage. He fears for little Fili. So much like Frerin, so much like Vili that it hurts, not that he lets the pain show. An Heir of the line of Durin must never let pain show. When Fili sings to his little brother, soft and low, Thorin sees Frerin with his wide grin and soothing voice singing Dis to sleep. When Fili does something and looks to him to see if it was done right Thorin see Vili, who was always so worried about shaming them. Thorin often wonders if Dis sees the same as he does, if sometimes she nearly calls him Frerin when he is pranking or cooing Vili's name when Fili get self conscious, if that is why Fili's name starts with the same letter as Frerin's and ends like Vili's. Silly, he knows it is, to try and draw connections to the past like he is. But when the perfect mixture of the two stands in front of him proudly holding out something he's found he can't help it. Maybe that is why he's harder on Fili than he means to be. There is so much potential, so many shadows that Fili has to contend with. It's a relief to Thorin when Fili chooses the sword instead of the bow, like Frerin and boy had grandfather thrown a fit over that, or war hammer, like Vili a strong weapon for a strong Dwarf. Thorin loves Fili, he does, loves his little golden Hawk and fears the day that Fili is swept away from him.

Dis cradles her oldest son, trying not to remember the other blonds that graced her life. They are not the ones who need her love right now. They are not the ones who need her to wipe away tears or kiss away hurts. Fili needs her now, what happened this time she does not know but it doesn't matter, her eldest needs her. He is delicate in a way that Frerin and Vili never were. She sees it in the blue eyes tear up when he skins his knees, or Kili gets hurt, Kili hardly ever cries for Fili cries for him, and he comes running up to her unlike Frerin who never did to their mother, father always said that Dwarves don't cry for they are as strong as the mountain is deep. She sees it in the way his expressive face crumbles into hurt and self belittling when he disappoints Thorin before smoothing to a blank face that scares her so unlike Vili who always seemed to expect disappointment and his face shined when he didn't or gave a smile apologetic smile when he did. She can tell that Thorin sees them in Fili, that he has a hard time separating the lost, for that is what Frerin and Vili are no matter how much she hates it, and the here. That is why she babies him. She tries to soften the heavy blows of responsibility that Thorin shoves onto Fili. And when her golden Lion Cub, he is no flighty or free bird no matter what Thorin thinks, chooses the sword she worries as only a mother can.

When Balin first saw that Fili's golden peach fuzz was not darkening he feared for his sanity. He was going to have to teach another blond Durin, Mahal have mercy on him. But to his suprise and delight Fili was one of his best students. He had no problem sitting still, a problem his little brother has, and listening to the lectures as Frerin did, the blond middle child refused to listen half the time He had no problem understanding what was taught unlike Vili but that wasn't Vili's fault, the poor lad never received an education before marrying Dis and had to learn everything at once. In fact the only problem, other than the fact that if his brother was in the same room all the attention normally reserved for lectures went to Kili, he had with Fili was sometimes the lad got his letters switched around which frustrated the lad. He could see where the boy was like his Uncle Frerin, both of his Uncles really for he has the Durin stubbornness, and like his father but he also saw how Thorin and Dis were treating Fili and how it was effecting him. So he tried, and probably failed because he was so proud of Fili that he liked to brag about the lad to the other teachers... in a sophisticated and not at all smug way of course, to be neutral ground for the boy. Someone Fili could turn to without worry of coddling or disappointing. And when Fili went from spending most of his days learning diplomacy to weapon handling he wished him luck.

Dwalin always thought Thorin was being... odd or sentimental, which is a type of odd, when he would talk about how much like Frerin and Vili Fili is until he got the lad on the training grounds and saw him in action. The lad has Frerin's concentration, the only time his blond cousin was ever on Middle Earth was when he had his bow in his hands, and Vili's grace, grace was one thing he never thought a miner would have. Oh how Dwalin loves teaching Fili. He can place damn near any weapon in the lad's hands and he can use it. Any weapon but the ones that are either as tall as him or taller than him like spears. His grace goes out the window. When the Fili sticks to swords Dwalin grins and promises to teach him how to wield two at once, something his Uncle Thorin is to good at but can kinda do. And if he spots Fili getting in a little practice with throwing knives or fighting with daggers, daggers aren't proper weapon's for a Durin we need big weapons Uncle Thrain had said, well that's just fine. Always good for a warrior to know how to use more than one weapon competently, he had never really agreed with Uncle Thrain anyways.

Kili is the one who Fili runs to when everything gets to be too muck. Kili is the one who reminds and reinforces the fact that Fili is not the Uncle neither of them ever got to know nor the father that he barely remembers, Fili is Fili repeat it after me Fili is Fili. It is he who sees the star that Fili is, a golden sun who shines his light down on them. He is the one Fili speaks freely to. He is the one who sees how raw and close to breaking his brother is with the weight of two dead souls resting on his shoulders. He doesn't envy Fili like some of the gossips say nor does he resent Fili. His freedom to fly, to soar high and lear at his own pace comes at the cost of Fili's freedom, sometimes he wonders if Fili hates him for it. If Fili were a bird his glorious wings would be clipped, if he were a cat he'd be chained to a wall with his claws clipped forever doomed to look out a window and dream of grass beneath his paws. And late at night when Fili sleeps fretfully, twitching and muttering his woes, did he remember to do this for Thorin, did he do that for Balin, he didn't worry mother with those did he, was his foot work right? He oft wonders if Fili hates the ones who constrict him so because if their places were reversed he feels he would hate them, but never Fili he can never hate Fili. Yet his brother seems incapable of hating anyone which leaves him open to so much hurt. So he guards Fili, his fragile glassware Sun, shields him the best he can. For he is the second born, the spare, the one who no one gives a second glance, no one but Fili, he has energy to give. And when Fili smiles so softly at him and sees the real him and not the one everyone else seems to see, the spare, the screw up, the brown haired elf child, he knows it's worth it and he knows that Fili does all he can to shield him as well.


	44. Finding Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindir tries to prove that he is an adult once and for all only he gets into more trouble than he can handle. He doesn't regret it though when at the end he comes away with something more valuable than he ever thought he'd have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a while it just never really wanted to be written. Basically Lindir finds Fili and raises him as his own. I won't say too much just in case I write more so I don't spoil anything.

Lindir knows he's acting foolish, acting like a child when he protests that he isn't a child that he is an adult. He's over two thousand years old for Eru's sake he should be subjected to a shadow everywhere he goes or those looks, the ones that say we're listening but your a child so we don't care. He's an accomplished minstrel and steward's assistant. And the twins, the reason he's out here, hurt and lost and proving them right instead of wrong are only forty years older than him but they get treated with more respect. Sure they are warriors, sure they are the Lords sons but they are immature! _You don't deserve to call Glorfindel father. We bet you wouldn't last a night out in the world on your own with just your sword for company._ Bleeding, hurting he runs not noticing that the land around him is changing. With eyes fever bright he slows to a walk blearily looking around seeing hills and green he collapses. Figures crowd around him, small and hardly scary, they speak in a tongue he doesn't understand but they don't hurt him. Feeling more safe than he has since he took the twins up on their stupid bet he lets his mind shut down. Later he'll learn that he made it all the way to Tookburrow with poorly bandaged wounds and an infection driven fever. Later he'll learn that the language of his saviors spoke is Shirlect the language of the Hobbits. But for now he is blissfully unaware and in a healing sleep.

His rest isn't completely peaceful, he dreams of monsters striking in the night and the shrill cries they let out. He dreams of each death that he could have prevented had he just stayed home. And each time he woke their was a Hobbit lass, sometimes with a babe sometimes not, there to ease him back to sleep. While he healed they taught him so much, kindly housing him in their home. _We're Hobbits Master Elf. Not Halflings, don't call us that. We're not half of anything. Now I am Adamanta and this is my husband Gerontius._

They have twelve children, it shocks him at first but he comes to enjoy and be thankful of the fact. The children keep him from falling into despair. It takes months for him to heal.

“You're lucky to be alive boy,” Adamanta says every time she sees him staring at the scars on his arms. He has many of those now, Hobbits couldn't stop the scarring, the ones on his back are the worst. They're deep and knotted hurting every time he moves a wrong way or picks up something 'too' heavy or even if he leans against something for too long. Marks of his stupidity and proof that just maybe the others were right to treat him like a child. In the months that he stayed with the Took family, _We're not the most 'respectable' lot but we are one of the oldest,_ he grew so very attached to them. He didn't want to leave the mortal family fearing that they would forget him or pass away and he would never hear of their passing for what is a hundred years to an Elf. But they convince him to leave, his parents must be missing him. Adamanta must see how mush he's come to love them for she convinces Gerontius to take a walking holiday, all fifteen of them walk him to Bree. There they insist on buying everything he might need, even a sword.

“If you don't want charity think of 'em as a partin' gift Lindir. We'll miss you something dreadful,” Adamanta says her misting. The children are full out crying and Gerontius looks close to it. He hugs them all, thanking them profusely and promising to write, a promise he keeps until replies quit coming back, because he doubts his Ada and Nana will let him out of their sights again.

“Were you one of my boys I wouldn't either,” Gerontius says with a huff of laughter.

The trip home is uneventful until he hears the sound of fighting, two days time from Rivendell. He almost ignores it, he'd be more of a hinder than help but the images to the night he gained his scars flashes into mind and he rushes in. Dwarrows are fighting Orc and losing. He's clumsy and unskilled, the sword in his hands heavier than the one his Ada gave him, the one he lost during the first attack. He's almost in a steady groove when he spots a child from the corner of his eyes. A moment of distraction is all an Orc needs for them to try and hit him, and hit him the Orc does but he slams his arm down pinning the sword to him and uses that to kill the Orc. When the last Orc falls he notices that only he and the child are still alive.

Tentatively he reaches out a hand to the small one, he knows how traumatic it can be to see so many die.

“It's alright sweetie, I won't hurt you,” he calls out softly to the small blond Dwarfling hiding underneath an upturned wagon. Words that can only be Khudzul spill from the boys lips. Blue eyes narrow thoughtfully when he notices that Lindir didn't understand him.

“Dat's what dey said!” the boy exclaims pointing at a dead Dwarf “Do you work for Uncle?”

Part of Lindir wants to coo at the little boy but the other and more promienent part frows at what he says. With a rueful shake of his head he speaks.

“I'm sorry but I don't. My name is Lindir.”

The boy instead of looking upset that he doesn't work for his Uncle looks relieved and after studying Lindir for a long moment crawls out from his hiding place and runs into his arms. The little blond cries, sobs as he talks into Lindir's clothing. The only words that he manages to catch are “Uncle sold”, “must have been bad”, “I'm sorry”, “Don't sell me too”. Lindir's heart shatters and he hugs the boy closer to him.

“Never, I'll never sell you Little Lion,” he whispers kissing the soft blond hair “I'll keep you safe, I promise.”

He struggles to stand, his back screaming it's anger at the move and the new injuries grumble their agreements. It takes a lot of strength, more strength than he knew he has but he lifts himself and the boy up.

“What is your name? I can't keep calling you endearments.”

The little one giggles softly.

“Fili.”

“Well Fili, I'm going to take yo to my home in Rivendell. There are many people who will help me keep you safe there, okay?”

“Okay.”

It hasn't even been a day and the little one has him wrapped around his finger. Fili, his Fili... at least until Fili realizes that there are better Elves to trust, to love. It's a miracle that his horse is alive and comes when he calls. It's difficult to mount but he does it and the ride home is long for he doesn't dare stop to rest. He fills the time talking, telling Fili all sorts of stories, some about his life others stories that he found relaxing.

His reception when he finally makes is the guards staring at him in shock before one runs off most likely to go and fetch a healer, hopefully to fetch a healer. He's tired and hurting and he wants his Ada and Nana, he wants them to love his little Lion as much as he does. Fili gets dismounted first, the guard that he passes Fili to looks at his Lion disdainfully which earns him a glare from Lindir. Dismounting himself causes a new wave of pain to crash into him, he stumbles black dots dancing in his vision and he collapses into a pair of arms. Fili's panicked voice is echoing in his ears, he tries to stay awake he does. Tries to make the panic and fear go away but he can't.

Gold, that is the first color he sees when he wakes up. The golden hair of his Ada as he bows his head shoulders shaking. With a gentle hand he pats his Ada's hair. Ada's head jerks up and the tears start to flow. They thought he was dead, were mourning him after they sent a second scouting group. A group that brought back his sword that they found amongst the corpses. Never before has Lindir seen his Ada so... so lost and in pain. He doesn't try to grill Lindir for information doesn't try to make him feel even more guilty. It is then that he notices that Fili isn't by his side and he almost panics.

“Careful, don't move around so much! If you are looking for the little one he is with Erestor. He's told us how you two met and Lord Elrond has agrees that you would be the best one to look after him, he didn't want to leave your side for the longest time.”

Lindir smiles softly, his heart relieved and he lays back down. Reaching out he grabs Ada's hand.

“I'm sorry I worried you.”

“I'm just so happy you made it back.”


	45. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifting thoughts of someone who has become untethered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got depressed today and this came out of it. Sorry if it isn't good. I know lots of you are waiting for the other shorts that you liked to be updated but... I've been very blah lately and haven't felt like doing much of anything. But I'm trying I promise.

I wonder my king... Did you ever love me? Or was I just another tool to toss aside? I loved you... Did you know that? I loved you... Would have followed you into the very center of Mordor, thrown myself into Mount Doom if only to please you... Not that you cared... Not that you saw... But maybe it's best that way... That way my betrayal won't hurt so badly... Will you notice? Of course you won't... Stupid Bilbo... Why would he notice the absence of one he named traitor? Oh Yavanna, I hurt... I hurt so badly Thorin... I didn't believe myself worthy of your gift... I didn't wear it... I should have... Maybe then I wouldn't be hurting... Or am I hurting because my Heart is shattered... My own fault of course... Stupid Hobbit, stupid Bilbo... Never liked the color red Thorin... Saw to much of it one winter... I'm seeing to much of it now... I won't betray you again... I'll keep you safe... like I did on the cliff... I won't take your reven... Oh... oh dear... that's... that's not good at all... But at least it gave you and chance to slice the bastards head off... Shouldn't curse... Isn't respectable... Am I still respectable? What are you searching for? No... no not my preci... Oh, now that won't do... Don't want to think like that... thing. Why are your blue eyes sad? Don't cry my King... And isn't funny... I'm the first Hobbit to have a king... Where are the boys? Ah... there they are... No... No crying... Please not over me... The sounds of battle are going out... At least I'm not cold... You'll be a good king... Shame I'll not... see Erebor... at her best... Such... a... sham....

_None of the line of Durin hear the shouts proclaiming that Eagles have come. None notice that the tide of the battle has shifted. All they see is their Hobbit covered in cuts and bruises and that damning stab wound in his stomach. They had seen Azog's clawed hand get stuck in something unseen as he swung it to hit Thorin. Their brave Hobbit... They wonder if he knows that he was speaking toward the end. That they heard his last words and they were not ones asking for forgiveness not that he had anything to be forgiven of. He had done what he thought he had to save them all, they were the ones blinded by Gold. It's amazing what a battle can clear a mind of and it makes Thorin wonder if maybe his Grandfather was himself during Moria._


	46. Bag End Cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introductory chapter into the world of Bilbo Baggins owner of the Bag End Cafe. Across the street from him is The Lonely Mountain Bar (and Grill though Smaug did away with that when he took over)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice that I use Hobbit and Man in this. I kinda want to do something with that, like have it to the normal looks that come with Hobbit's stay the same and maybe they still eat seven meals a day they just don't live a long time same with Elves.

_Bag End Cafe_ is a quaint little place with warm and homey decor. Soft Classical music plays from small speakers and on occasion more modern music can be heard. There is a reading nook set in one corner with plush chairs and bean bags. The main section of the cafe has low tables and odd but comfortable bowl shaped chairs. The booths are soft and plush much like the reading nook chairs so very unlike the hard plastic booths found in restaurants and fast food places. The owner of _Bag End_ is a Hobbit, a very respectable Hobbit if one ignores the gossip from the crueler Sackville-Baggins, named Bilbo Baggins. Now _Bag End_ isn't a very busy place nor is it a dead place. It has it's few, albeit far and between, regulars and enough random customers that it stays a float. Much like the bar across the street, small or maybe large Bilbo doesn't know he never goes over there and he doesn't know much about them, even though he can drink even a dwarf under the table. He just watches as people stumble out of it, they're a rough sort of people and he worries that they'll cause trouble. He's heard, both from gossipy customers and through the grapevine of other owners of stores on the block, that it used to be a respectable place before it's ownership traded hands. He's met the, apparently newish, owner once and did not like the Man... If Smaug can be called a Man with his reptilian yellow eyes and short red hair. Smaug reminded Bilbo of a Dragon more than a Man. But other than that Bilbo knows next to nothing about _The Lonely Mountain Bar_ , the grill that Bilbo can often make out on the once proud sign has been removed and trashed. Which is a pity in Bilbo's mind because he wouldn't mind having a place to go that is close to home for when he feels lazy and does not wish to cook.


	47. Bag End Cafe: Enter the Boys.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the day starts of normally it sure doesn't stay that way...

The day starts as it normally does; with the chirping of his alarm clock. He moves by habit, blearily rubbing his eyes as he walks, not needing to turn on any lights. It's a normal morning of baking goodies and starting to roast the beans for coffee. The Open sign is flipped just in time for two of his regulars to walk in. Tall and fair Erestor and Lindir make quite the sight in his cafe. The Elves smile... well Erestor smiles and Lindir blinks and yawns cutely, something Bilbo never believed he would ever say about the Elegant people. Lindir isn't a morning person, in fact it takes a triple shot of espresso in a caramel macchiato to jump start his system with a sweet pastry of Erestor's choosing to top it off. Erestor, the morning person, takes a cup of regular medium brew coffee which he pours an unhealthy amount of sugar to then adds two things of creamer, always a different type. They look so a like with long brown black hair and soft brown eyes that Bilbo sometimes thinks they are brothers but then they act like really close friends. He loves talking to them regardless of course.

Lindir smiles sleepily at Bilbo taking the cup that is pressed into his hands.  
“Thank you Bilbo.”

“You're quite welcome Lindir... You two haven't been working two shifts in a roll again have you?” Bilbo asks worried about the dark circles under his friends eyes, they work at Rivendell hospital and tend to overwork themselves. Erestor laughs softly.

“You will be pleased to note that we haven't unless we had too.”

“Good.”

They chat for a while, Erestor and Bilbo teasing the younger Elf on his crush, Elrond the widower Head of surgery, before the two have to leave. Bilbo makes sure to give them some scones, on the house though they don't have to know that. After those do leave his day becomes a little more boring, the only other regulars he has are his family and they aren't exactly regulars, but he still has fun... Unless a certain Cousin drops by. Why Otho still blames him for the divorce is beyond him. Thankfully there are no unwanted visits from evil relatives. Instead he gets a wonderful visit from Bell, his best friend's wife and good friend. Yes all in all it was a pretty good day up until the “afternoon rush” as he likes to call the sudden influx of children in his cafe. Most just come to say hi to him but four come to actually visit and he loves it.

As 3:30 rolls around Bilbo sets aside what he knows his boys will want. And when 3:50 comes but the boys haven't he gets worried. The children get out at 3:15, they take the bus and arrive at Bag End between 3:30 & 3:40, not a minute sooner or later and they are now ten minutes late. Right before he gives into the urge to panic and calls the boys parents and start a frantic search he hears the door to Bag End open. Not in the normal customer way or the ways the boys normally open the door but in a quiet 'Lets try to sneak in' way. He looks up, his hazel eyes narrow and mouth open to give the boys, all of them teenagers and should know better than to worry him, when he takes in the rag tag group. They've been in a scuffle, judging by the peacock strut Lotho has they won it too, and most of the damage seems to be centered on the two boys in the middle, Dwarves if the thick and intractely braided hair is any indication, and Lotho, the boy who normal pops in to assure him that Lobelia has killed her ex-husband and say hi before waltzing back out... the boy was an annoying mash of both his parents.

“Breathe Uncle Bilbo. It's alright. It was a small scuffle and I made sure the other four didn't get too roughed up,” Lotho tries to soothe readjusting his grip on the blond Dwarf. The brown haired Dwarf is being held by Sam and Frodo.

“They weren't fighting fair Mister Bilbo!”

“Yeah, we couldn't just leave 'em fighting six ta two!'

“We sent the others home so no one would worry... Did they not call Uncle Bilbo?”

“We won!! You should hav... Ow Merry that hurt.” Pippin yelps as his older cousin elbows him in the side.

Bilbo takes a deep breath, repeating 'you love them don't yell' over in his mind, before motioning for the boys to sit down at the main counter. The two Dwarves seem nervous as they sit down. Bilbo tries to smile reassuringly at them, though he's sure it's more strained then reassuring.

“Don't worry I won't lecture you,” _I'll leave that for your parents_ “two. Let me go grab my first aid kit and I'll tend your scrapes and bruises. If you have any injuries worse than that I'll have to take to the hospital.”

He is thankful that _Bag End_ isn't busy right now because fitting seven injured teenaged boys into his small apartment above _Bag End_ would be very tricky.

“You don't hav....”

Bilbo gives the blond dwarf who had begun speaking his best glare that said 'sit down, be quiet and let me mother you' and the blond boy does just that. Lotho pats his arm as Bilbo walks up to his apartment.  
  
“Don't worry too much that you were cowed by Uncle Bilbo. Even Mum doesn't stand a chance against that look.”

“And his Mum is scary,” Pippin says with an exaggerated shudder.

“Hey, that's my Mum your talking about.”

“Well she is!!”

Lotho grunts and frowns at him.

“Anyways Uncle Bilbo will fix you up good... Did we catch each others names as we were fighting?”

“Fili Durin,” the blond Dwarf says with smile.

“And Kili Durin,” says the brunette.

Lotho noticing that Pippin, the youngest out of all of them, is about to start the long and obnoxious way he introduces the group, Lotho speaks before Pippin can.

“I'm Lotho Bracegirdle, that's Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck and the little pipsqueak at the end is Pippin Took.”

Pippin sticks his tongue out at the older boy. Bilbo who had came down just in time to here Lotho's introduction smiles softly.

“Alright boys I got the kit,” he says causing the boys to jump “And after I fix you up I'm sure your _parents_ would _love_ to know where you are.”

His five boys gulp in fear at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotho is a Senior  
> Fili is a Junior  
> Kili is a Sophomore  
> Frodo is an Eighth Grader  
> Sam is a Seventh Grader  
> Merry is a Seventh Grader  
> Pippin is a Sixth Grader


	48. Tis Just a Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Won't you listen to an old man ramble? Let me tell you a legend my boy. A legend of two lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at writing something with out telling you who exactly is the narrator...

**The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive with it's beige pant and green painted door. The sidings hold scars, old and new from rocks and rotten vegetables thrown by scared townsfolk. It holds a legend you must understand that people fear what they don't understand or things that they don't want to understand. And this house, this house held both. For you see no one wanted to understand the connection that brought together the army General Thorin “Oakenshield” Durin and the towns apothecary Bilbo Baggins. They were two very different coins you see. Thorin: harsh, commanding, cold some would say, and disbeliever in anything other than what he could see with his own eyes and Bilbo: sweet, caring, mothering with a sharp tongue and has a hand in the otherworld. Yet they worked so well together, their love so glaringly obvious that it hurt to look upon. Thorin's face would go soft at the mere mention of his lovers name. It was kind of sickening how in love they were... Heh, sorry got off track didn't I? Where was I? Oh yes, they were in love. Things might have gone smoothly if Bilbo hadn't gotten pregnate. His mother Belladonna Baggins nee Took had faery blood in her and was blessed by a High Fae to boot as well and when you have that much magik flowing through your veins something's bond to happen and happen it did! Two years after they were wed they had a little bundle of joy or well bundles of joy. Twins. One with hair like spun hair, got that from the Tooks' he did Belladonna was on of the few with dark hair, and the other with dark brown hair. Named them Fili and Kili they did. Twin horrors they were, though alone Fili was very quiet and shy. He had his sire's air of majesty combined with his bearers sensibility. All seemed to be going well until the war. Oh it was horrible, so much bloodshed, so much death. As General Thorin was excepted to go and go he did.**

“Wait for me Bilbo,” he whispered into pointed ears, another trait gained because of his blood “I will be back, I promise.”

“I fear my coming here is not on good tidings,” croaked the Raven, wings low “An army comes from the South. They are lead by your husband's enemy's son. He comes for blood. Your husband and his constable are coming but they will be intercepted. You and your town must flee.”

But Bilbo would not leave, he begged the townsfolk to take the boys and flee but he would not. He promised Thorin he would wait for him. That he would be in this house when he came home. Understanding filled the Raven's eyes and he dipped his head low as if in prayer. The townsfolk needed no prodding, they fled after packing what they could. Little Fili and Kili dragged away screaming and crying begging to stay behind with their bearer. The Raven knowing it's form would be a hindrance for he would not leave changed it to that of a man. Feathers melted away or fell to the ground leaving behind a man with brown hair. The Raven now man gathered the feathers and placed one behind Bilbo's ear.

“You will be invisible now unless you make a sound. Be silent my friend and you just may make it out alive.”

**Ack now don't look like that! You didn't think this would be a happy tale did you? This isn't a fairy tale lad with a happy ending. You'll learn that fairy tales are just that tales. Now where was I?**

When the army from the south came, Bilbo picked off stragglers or men who were on their own, never saying a word. His friend would make as much noise as he could distracting them and keeping them from finding Bilbo. All was going as well as a battle could, a few lucky hits left Bilbo bleeding and even his Raven friend got hurt, **arrows in his shoulder, nasty business that,** until Thorin returned. Bloodied himself and face a light with rage he charged the other man, Bolg son of Azog and nemesis to Thorin. They fought both sides ignoring their men. A fierce battle that climaxes when Bolg brings his mace down onto Thorin's leg. **Thorin the smug bas... Ahem... smug man that he was baited Bolg with the fact that he beheaded Azog not a wise thing to do.** Bilbo let out a terrified scream racing toward his lover. But alas the spell that protected him being seen was dispelled. He was shot down before he could reach Thorin. And Thorin could only watch as his love fell to the Earth. Twin cries echoed making Thorin's heart sink as his two boys were found and brought before Bolg. Bolg laughed and mocked the boys about their heritage, about the death of their bearer before he beheaded them. Thorin lost in despair gathers his strength lunges up and stabs Bolg through the heart and falls back to the ground sobbing. The townsfolk returned to find their brave, cold and unmovable General sobbing over the bodies of his family. The Raven grieved with Thorin for Bilbo had saved his life, a nasty pair of stone giants had tried to squash him and Bilbo the clever little apothecary that he was managed to save the Raven's feathers. The General lived long enough to put his family in the ground before ending his own life. Now Thorin never did believe much in magik or Fae, despite the fact that if Bilbo hadn't had magic and fae blood in him their boys would have never came to be. So Bilbo believed enough for both of them. The note the General left behind stated that home was with Bilbo and he needed to go. Some say that it is the strength of their bond that keeps the home from turning to dust, other say magic. But what they don't understand is that love is a type of magic and magic has a mind of it's own. You may be able to use it but that doesn't mean that it'll listen to you. When Bilbo made his promise to Thorin a type of magik was cast. Legend say that not only does the house remain standing even though thousands of years but if you stand quietly you will hear a happy family, a booming voice, child laughter and a lilting voice.

**Hogwash you say? Well it just a legend lad believe what you will. Oh, I think I hear your mam calling you. Best go now... Boyden... Heh, seems like maybe the spirits in the house will finally be at rest... Never were happy just letting things be were you Bilbo....**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like Zombie AU's I wrote one.... Yes shameless self promotion but I feel really proud of it X///////X I think it helped me get back into the writing groove a bit.


	49. Changing Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part three of Changing. Bilbo hopes no other Hobbits come tumbling out of the bushes. He doesn't think his heart can take any more. And _**he**_ isn't going to be explaining this, oh no, to Thorin Grumpy Oakensheild. Oh curses to Mados' Halls and back he thought hobbits had more sense!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to separate this like I did Soulmarks Never Lie but I have no clue what to call it if I do.
> 
>  
> 
> Oooooo. Chapter Forty Nine!!!! Longest story I've ever written... Any thoughts on what I should do for Fifty?

Bilbo isn't entirely sure how he avoided getting yelled at. Maybe it was because of Lobelia snarling at Thorin, she isn't too fond of the dwarf king, or maybe because he can see the use of have two more hunters, hunters that can feed themselves. Though when everyone else goes to sleep, Dwalin giving Lotho a second confused glance Bilbo stays up. A hobbits secondary form is like a second skin, they are in it almost as much as they are in their hobbity form but.

“Are you going to stay in this form the entire journey? Did you think any of this through Lobelia?” Bilbo asks her softly, his face pressed against her side. When changing forms one tends to lose or tear any clothing they are wearing. Lobelia may be used to the sight of naked male hobbits but she is still a semi respectable hobbit and that means she's grown out of the striping without a care phase as has Hamfast. Little Lotho is still young enough not to have a care in the world and is much better about changing forms than any of the current hobbit elders. Though Lobelia _was_ the best out of the gang at changing at will and the first to get her form change so maybe it's hereditary. Lobelia lets out a soft whine and licks at his face. Hamfast, once more dragging Lotho back to his mother, cuddles close. Bilbo valiantly tries to not fall for the combined wait of three cuddling, sad eyed hobbits.

“We only eat three meals a day, Thorin is like that always, we, well I have to ride a pony, you will have to listen to Thorin and any of the older dwarves because they know how to survive out here, no biting them no matter how much the deserve it AND if you decide to change back you get to deal with his Majestic King Grumpiness while naked since it appears that you didn't think this through,” Bilbo tells them softly. Lobelia growls then sniffs as if to say please. And that's when two more wolf pups tumble out of the bushes, these two carrying/dragging a bag behind them. Bilbo feels his eye start to twitch when he spots the Pika riding on top of the bag. No, no, they didn't, they wouldn't... they did.

“Bell.... I thought you had more sense than this lot,” he groans softly as Hamson and Halfred abandon the bag and join Lotho. Bell chitters and he knows she's laughing at him. He is _not_ explaining this to any of the dwarves, he decides as he pulls away from Lobelia and covers his head with his blanket. He is going to ignore this insanity and pray to the Gray Lady who is merciful in all things that this is just a nightmare. That his best friends did not leave the safety of their home to follow him on a mad quest with a dragon, which he forgot to tell them about but hey this is a nightmare, that there are not three faunts rough housing quietly beside him and if he snuggles into the soft bodies as they lay down finally giving into the call of sleep well even nightmares have good moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you know this but I fiddled with the ages!!! Hamson and Halfred are now twins and are a year younger than Lotho and of course their parents are aged up accordingly.


	50. I know the pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo know the pain of losing an older sibling, after all he lost six of the at once. So he hopes he can ease Kili's pain. So he talks about the good times, to distract the Dwarrow from his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrightie since no one commented something they'd like to read I came up with something meself and I hope you enjoy it. The siblings Bilbo has are of course OC's. They are all older than him and he is still born when he supposed to be. His parents didn't actually die in Fell Winter but I love that version of Canon that I run full tilt with it Cx

Bilbo Smiles sadly as he sits by Kili. The brunet sobs loudly clutching a braid of gold to his chest. He brings the crying boy, for that is what Kili is to Bilbo a boy who is far from home and just lost a brother, to his chest hugging him.

“Have I ever told you about my sisters, Kili?” he asks suddenly, an idea hitting him that he hopes will soothe the pain. Kili looks up at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“I had six older sisters.”

Brown eyes widen in shock.

“I... I was the youngest, though not the most troublesome, of the brood,” he laughs a dead laugh “My oldest sister, her name was Rosamund, she was a better Baggins than I ever hoped to be. Yavanna was she beautiful, looked just like Momma she did. Then there was Bramble. Now Bramble, Bramble was the trouble maker. Everyone in the Shire even Momma herself swore that Bramble was worse than Momma. Put them together in a room and you have force you don't want to mess with. They took on a Wizard they did and won. Did you know that?”

A startled laugh escapes Kili's throat.

“What?”

“Oh it was Papa's favorite memory to share with any one who would listen! You see Rosamund was having a 'tea party' with her imaginary friends and Gandalf apparently stepped on one. She stood up, put her hands on her hips in a very Bungo like fashion and started to berate him. Bramble sees this, watches for a few seconds snickering about how like Papa Rosamund can be, when she notices that Gandalf doesn't seem to be taking her sister seriously enough. And if there is one thing you must know about Bramble is that she _hated_ when people didn't take her family seriously. So she walks up to Gandalf and.. oh goodness,,. grabs his beard and pulls him down. Gandalf of course apologized to Rosamund and made a habit to check not only there were no imaginary friends about but his beard was not in grabbing distance.”

Kili laughs loudly before grimacing. It feels wrong to laugh with out Fili. Bilbo gives him a sympathetic look. He won't mention it gets better not yet. Instead he runs through wild brown hair.

“I've told you about two of them, would you like to hear about the others?”

“Yeah,” Kili's voice is soft and he snuggles closer to the Hobbit.

“Alright. After Bramble came Kymma. Now Kymma was a very odd Hobbit. She was oh so very shy, barely said a word outside of her friends and family, and didn't like what other Hobbit's enjoyed. Not even adventuring much to Momma's and Bramble's sadness! No what Kymma loved most was... archery. You and her would have been best of friends I do believe. Abigail comes after Kymma. Abigail was a gardner and a healer in training. Best one in the Shire Momma used to crow to the world. I don't thi... wait yes I do. Abigail had just turned twenty, a tween by Hobbit standards,” Bilbo says quickly knowing that Dwarrows and Hobbits age differently “Hobbits come of age at thirty three. Well a boy comes along while Rosamund and Bramble are gone and tries to give Abigail a Courting Bouquet. He probably planned to come while Rosamund was away cause she would have been very cross, she didn't know him and he was trying to give her a Courting Bouquet, the nerve! Anyways Abigail was trying to decline politely but he wasn't having it. And Kymma who had just returned from practicing her bow...”

“What did she do?”

Bilbo laughs, this time it's a happy laugh, watching the people who pass them by but not really seeing them.

“She shot an arrow that cut off the flower heads and scared the bow. I was sure he had peed his pants as he ran off. Kymma still unhappy with him takes the sling shot she just gave me and the rocks I had collected and began to pelt him in the arse as he ran!”

Kili looks as if he's about to laugh but he holds it in.

“What about the other two?”

“That would be Ivy and Rosemary. Ivy was a bit more Tookish than the rest of us, except Bramble of course. The two of them would go exploring all the time, sometimes letting me and Rosemary go too. Ivy and Rosemary, they were almost always together. A bit like you and Fili were only there were more times that Rosemary went a different way. Ivy would do something to Tookish for Rosemary so she'd follow one of the other girls around. I remember one time they made each other mad, I can't remember the cause for the life of me though. They wouldn't talk to each other at all, it was very weird. Then Rosemary in a great fit of Tookishness called a false truce using me as her Currier. I of course didn't know it was a false one at the time. She baked Ivy's favorite snack, a strawberry tart, only she had covered it in Black pepper and filled it with spicy peppers mixed with the strawberry filling. Ivy brought a 'peace offering' as well, a book that when opened exploded in a cloud of sneezing powder right into Rosemary's face. Everybody in the smial froze, terrified in a way about the reaction of the two girls. They both took one look at the other, one sneezing up a storm the other crying due to the unexpected heat in her mouth, and they started to laugh,” Bilbo chuckles, wiping at the tears that had started to form. He sees the question in Kili's eyes and holds back a sigh.

“They died during Fell Winter. A lot of Hobbits died during that accursed season. Papa died due to the cold, froze trying to get us more fire wood right before the Brandywine River froze. Momma died because of the White Wolves that were as hungry as we were.... My sisters... My sisters died because of Orcs. We heard rumors that they were up north or maybe it was south but we, we were in the center, in Hobbiton. They broke into Bag End during the night. We were cornered in the back room, screaming for help and listening to the answering screams. Rosamund had no experience with weapons but she lead the charge... They kept pushing Rosemary and I back because we were the youngest at twenty one and twenty. Ivy was twenty three... I... I can still hear Rosemary's scream of agony as Ivy fell when it's quiet,” there is a hitch in Bilbo's voice “It's by pure chance that I survived while they didn't. I can still hear their screams, smell the blood and taste my own. I have no clue when the Rangers showed up and captured the Orcs attention. I only had eyes for my sisters...”

They sit curled together sharing tears and comfort in front of a large tent, Dwarrows, Elves and even the odd Wizard rush in and out of it.

“It takes a while for it to get better Kili, and some days it will feel so fresh you will want to curl up and sob. Everything reminds you of what you've lost. You have to keep living, fighting though Kili.”

A man rushes by carrying a limp and lifeless tiny body. The man hurries into the tent and a pain filled howl fills the air. Kili's small, sad and unsure smile vanishes. His brown eyes search Bilbo's hazel ones.

“Where,” he clears his throat “where do Hobbits go when they die?”

“It depends really, some go to the Garden that the Queens made just for them.”

“The others?”

“The Others stick around for a bit to comfort loved ones, to encourage those close to death to live, granting forgiveness to those who ask.”

The scene back in the tent with Uncle and the way he only had eyes for Bilbo flashes in Kili's mind. Tears pour down his face as the truth hits home. Bilbo is crying too as he clunks their forehead together in the dwarrow way.

“Watch out for you Uncle for me?”

“Only if you watch over Fili.”

“I'm sure I can arrange something,” Bilbo says glowing bright, the light blinding Kili for a moment. When the glow dissipates Kili is left staring blankly at the inside of a tent. Bandaged and barely alive, Kili allows fresh tears to flow down his face ignoring his Uncle's relieved voice and promising to live. He can still feel the warmth of the Hobbit's forehead on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not abandoned any of my fic's if you guys are worrying about that. Real Life has been kicking my ass hard and unrelentingly which has taken a hard hit to my creative juices. Don't worry I shall work on a new chapter for Songs In Our Hearts and Hearts On Our Lips, Soul Marks Never Die and They Were Given The Wrong Hand.


	51. A Huge AU Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a start of a possibly huge AU. It deals with mainly the Shifter aspect of the AU and if it catches anyones attention I'll add the next part which will deal with the Soulmarks and have more Dwarrow interaction.... Sorry if Bilbo seem out of character (I shall always worry I write him out of Character -_-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I’m totally combining a couple of the base ideas for some of my fic’s into one large fic. I’m combining the Soulmark thing and the Wolf shift thing for sure. Might add some more later (like the Vili having the ability to see into the future). The Hobbits in this will also live as long as Dwarves however they still come of age at 33. When they reach 50 they’re still middle aged and when they reach 100 they are considered Elders and treated with the greatest of Respect (even the Tooks). Hobbit genealogy is confusing and headache inducing, more on that in the bottom notes though. Also in this one Frerin isn’t dead. I’m not sure if I want Erebor fallen or not. This is basically one big AU, have fun!

The light of the full moon shines down on the green hills of the Shire, spilling into the smials whose doors are thrown wide open. Which is all of them of course. Most Hobbits are inside curled up amongst family members and enjoying the serenity. While others, the Tooks and Brandybucks and the odd Pack that has made itself a home in the large Bag End, run rampant across the Hills and even into the Forest. Happy howls fill the air and are returned in kind, even by those inside. Hobbits you see are the smallest of the shifts, smaller than Dwarrows, rounder too. Their paws are large for their small stature and yet the move quieter than an Elf as they race around. The “Leader” of the pack, Bilbo Baggins, makes a striking figure with curly chestnut fur and hazel eyes as he and his two Beta’s race at his side. On his left Lobelia lifts her muzzle into the air letting out a howl, her chocolate brown fur catching the moonlight. A wide grin is on Hamfast’s face as the blond Wolf stays in step with Bilbo. Answering calls ring out and Bilbo can see more of his Pack on the Old Forests Edge. They have ran further tonight than usual but who cares the younglings sure don’t.

A sharp scared bark brings Bilbo to a stop. His ears moving quickly as he tries to pin point where it came from. More scared barks and yelps echo through the night and Bilbo takes off again. He pushes himself faster than ever, it sounded like little Frodo’s bark and Nienna have mercy should anyone hurt his nephew. Lobelia, always the bigger and meaner of the three Wolves is growling low in her throat. Together the three of them burst through a small gathering of trees. Before them is Frodo, he’s trembling but standing in front of the youngest faunt. In front of them is a Wolf, it is a stocky Wolf built for power which makes Bilbo think it’s a Dwarf. Lobelia pounces, her powerful jaws snapping closed on the Wolf’s throat. She doesn’t try to kill it like she would anything else that threatened a pup, instead she easily subdues it. Carefully Hamfast walks up to the pups and noes them making sure they’re okay. Bilbo walks up to the downed Wolf, lips pulled up into a small snarl. He had thought a Dwarf would be kinder to pups, seeing how they rarely have any. A low whine comes from the golden Wolf and blue eyes stare up at him almost apologetically. Bilbo is on alert, Lobelia is stronger than most hobbits as strong as a lot of Dwarves but if there are more they would be overpowered. When he is sure hamfast has the little ones safely away he signal to Lobelia to let the Wolf go. She does so with a grumble. The golden Wolf stays flat to the ground, his big blue eyes staring up and his tail curled under him… He looks like a pup that has barely reached adulthood. Too old to truly be a pup but too young to be an adult.

Deep howls from deeper in the forest cause the Wolf to perk up and Bilbo motions for the Wolf to join his Pack. _He_ won’t harm a pup, even if said pup might have been trying to hurt one of his. As the golden Wolf runs off, a dark brown Wolf joining him, Lobelia snaps half heartedly at him the gives Bilbo a look that says _Pups, can’t live with them._ Bilbo chuckles and shakes his head. As the moon begins its descent the Hobbits gather together, they can feel it in their bones, it’s time to head to the nearest in or maybe try their luck at getting back home. They vote for trying to get home and they’re halfway there when the the sun rises. The Change mid step to their Hobbity forms and with childlike laughter the older Hobbits Change into their Second Forms. Some of the children, the ones who have mastered Shifting, Shift back into their Wolf forms, the others climb onto the backs of the bigger shifters. Mainly Lobelia and Hamfast. They put the meeting of the young Dwarf wolf behind them, surely the Dwarves will not be coming through Hobbiton any time soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so did you guys know that Frodo’s Mum is the younger sister of Merry’s grandpa? Well she is! *rubs head* There is 14 years between Frodo and Merry, so Primula either had Frodo late in her life which I’m pretty sure she didn’t or Primula was just a lot younger than her brother. But bloody hell when you know this it makes writing kinda confusing because I’ve already aged up some of the characters and such so I can play with them and…. *whines* Should I pretend I don’t know that and right Saradoc as Primula’s brother instead?  
> Bilbo's Pack Before The Dwarrows


	52. A Huge AU Maybe Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk on Soulmarks and a trip to the Market what fun ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have a plan. Erebor hasn’t fallen. Thrain isn’t crazy or missing instead he’s the King of Erebor! Because Erebor hasn’t fallen Frerin is still alive, Thror is dead because I’m pretty sure he’d be horribly old or dead. Thorin still has the title Oakensheild because as they were going to the Blue Mountains in hopes of fostering relationships, no he isn’t trying to marry them off, they get ambushed by Azog. I don’t want to give away too much but Frerin is alive and Dis is still married to her husband. Bofur and his family live in the Blue Mountains. I also changed up a lot of the ages.The four boys are the same age (By that I mean Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin). They’re I’m probably not going to mention Rory, who is Saradoc’s dad and Prims brother cause it hurts my head.

It’s been two days since meeting the Dwarf Wolf and life goes on in the crowded home that is Bag End. Though on this particular day Bilbo is distracted from making Breakfast by the sight of young Lotho, the oldest of the many fauntlings running around, hunched over the table his shoulders shaking. Lotho has a quill to his wrist trying to make something on it. Eyes widening he hurries over and carefully takes the quill from his hands.

“What are you doing?”

Lotho looks away, covering his red wrist with his left hand.

“I was giving myself a Mark.”

Bilbo sighs softly sitting down and bringing the young faunt to his side.

“Darling you’re fifteen, you’re not old enough for a Mark to appear. They only appear when you come of age, just like your Second Form,” he says softly. Lotho grunts still looking away.

“What if I’m like Momma and Father? What if I never get a Mark? What if I’m destined to alone forever only marrying because Momma gets tired of me and forces me into an arranged marriage!!!!!!” Lotho picks up speed as he get more panicked and he looks up worriedly at his Uncle Bilbo. Poor Bilbo has to try to catch up, blinking quickly. When it does sink in he resists the urge to flinch.

“Oh Lotho, your mother would never do that. And how do you know that your mother doesn’t have a Mark?”

“Because father didn’t and Hobbits are never to marry one who is not your Heart and Soul unless they have no Mark, that is what Momma said,” this is said with absolute certainty. This time Bilbo does flinch and Lotho looks down, his hand reaching out and grabbing Bilbo’s arm so that he can look at the round shield and oak tree that is his Uncle Bilbo’s Mark. He keens softly, he doesn’t want to be Markless.

“Your mother has a Mark dearie. Your grandmother just wasn’t fond of how… Tookish, your mother was.”

“What does Momma’s Mark look like.”

Lobelia clears her throat making the two of them jump guilty. Lobelia walks over to them and removes the brown leather bracelet that she has used to cover her Mark since the marriage to Otho, the Bastard. On her wrist is a golden mattock and what looks like a circlet with a sapphire in the middle. Lotho reaches out and curiously traces it, his head tilts cutely. Lobelia smiles sadly.

“This is what it looks like baby. My mother was very concerned about Resectability. I was not the daughter she wanted. I was too wild, she hoped being married to your father would calm me down and for a time it worked. Then he did something unforgivable and I beat the crap out of him and left with you. Just wait for your Mark dearie, it will come.”

Lotho whines softly.

“But I want one now…..”

Lobelia laughs and ruffles his hair, Bilbo watches the two and smiles. Lobelia may never meet her Soul or _Souls_ but at least she has Lotho. His hand covers his own Mark and he wonders at the possibility of him meeting his own Soul. With a shake of his head he gets up and begins to make Breakfast. Lobelia sits down and watches him. She can’t cook, she normally isn’t allowed into the kitchen period. As the smell of food trails deeper into the smial Bell, Esmeralda, Eglantine, and Primula join him in the kitchen and they quickly finish cooking breakfast. The dining room table is soon filled with all the food and Bilbo sits down with his Family, his Pack.

After Breakfast, the girls shoo him off to go to the Market and the faunts are quick to turn large puppy dog eyes on to him. Saradoc laughs at the slowly breaking expression on Bilbo’s face.

“Just for that you can go with Bilbo,” Esmeralda says giving her husband and unamused look. The look Saradoc gives her is one of betrayal that has the faunts laughing. Merry pats his dad’s hand comfortingly.Taking thirteen faunts and an adult who may as well be a faunt is going to be fun. Paladin the ass is just grinning, he has to go back to the Great Smials in Tookland for Thain business, as he watches the faunts run about. Lotho and the male Gamgee Twins stare at the younger faunts and shake their head. Paladin ruffles their hair.

“Live while you can little ones,” he says sagely before kissing his own children on the head as he passes them on his way out. Bilbo and Saradoc heave a sigh together and offering their hands to the quickest faunts they too leave the smial.

“How come Hammie doesn’t have to go?” Saradoc grumbles eyeing the blond Hobbit’s back, trying not to flinch as girl Gamgee twins tug on his arms.  
“Cause Dad has ta work,” they chorus as if he should know this. Bilbo whose hands are being held by Marigold and Pippin laughs at his Cousins’ misfortune.  
“If you are good I might buy you guys some sweets,” Bilbo tells them as the Market comes into view.

____________________________________________________________________________  
“I’m telling you Uncle, the Halflings are stronger than they look!”

“Kili please, keep your voice down. We may be in a market but you still must be conscious of those around you.”

“Uncle!!”

A great sigh is heaved, unnoticed by the sighing Dwarf several Hobbit lasses fan themselves discreetly at the picture he makes, and the Dwarf looks at his nephew. Seeing that he has his Uncles undivided attention the younger Dwarf perks up.

“Last night when me and Fili broke off to do some exploring we ran across a baby Halfling. The great oaf that is Fili was so startled that he tripped and landed on the smallest one. Of course they were scared and alerted their…. I’m going to guess parents and the mother leaps out of nowhere and _PINS_ Fili to the ground… You will be glad to know I did not just jump into the situation I sat back and watched, I would have if they posed a true threat. Anyways the mom keeps him pinned and this other one goes up to the pups and the dad come up to him snarling… And then he lets Fili go! The mom snapped at him and when Fili Shifted back this morning he had bruises!!!”

Thorin pinches the bridge of nose, feeling a headache coming on.

“Are you sure that they were Hobbits Kili?”

“Yes! Look, right there the little one that looks creepily like you, that’s one of the ones we… I mean Fili scared.”

“How… He does not look creepily like me.”

“He has bright blue eyes like you can Fili and his hair is the same shade as the fur!”

The little one in question looks over and Thorin sees that he does have blue eyes. The little ones eyes widen and he pulls on the arm of one of his friends… or sibling… and the blond male looks over at them. Soon the entire group of little ones are looking at them with wide eyes. Kili waves at them cheerily.

“They sure are cute,” Kili says though he flinches when an older Hobbit with hazel eyes looks over at them as well. The snarling Wolf had hazel eyes as well and that look of calculation is one Kili recognizes… Oh… dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I have the ages all figured out and if you want I’ll post them but I fiddled with them greatly because i wanted to play with ALL the cute little fauntlings! *hug squishes fauntlings* I need some major help picking out some Shifts for the Hobbits. Primula, Drogo, Esmeralda, Saradoc, Eglantine and Paladin all need Shifts. I was thinking for one of the Brandybucks (Primula and Saradoc) being a water fowl (Goose or Swan or Duck) but I don’t know.


	53. Belladonna Met Varda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea where the Valar comes down into Middle Earth and meets Belladonna and falls in love with her and stays in Hobbiton. This is where Varda comes down.

There are two tales that are well known throughout all of Middle Earth. Those are the Tale of Erebor, where thirteen Dwarrows and a single Hobbit went to reclaim the Lonely Mountain from a nasty Dragon, and the Quest of the Ring, where a group of nine, consisting of four Hobbits, two Men, a dwarf and an Elf went and destroyed the One Ring. What they don’t realize is that the stories where written by an author who hid some aspects, he felt a bit guilty and a bit betrayed you see so he cut himself out of a lot of his own story and the fibbed the ending. His nephew followed in his footsteps editing the story to fit what he thought was right. Would you perchance want to hear the truth about Bilbo Baggins? If you do we must start at the very beginning. Before Bilbo was even a sparkle in his mother’s eyes.

In fact we must begin with his mother, the ninth child and oldest daughter of Gerontius and Admanta Took, one Belladonna Took. Yes, yes we must begin there, or perhaps mentioning that her father was a good friend of the Gray Wizard and through him all of the Hobbits children became friends with the Maiar. Are you ready for the tale before the tale? The one where young Belladonna, so young that she had not yet cottoned on to the fact that a certain young Baggins was pining after her, met someone who would start a chain of events? I’ll take your eager silence as a yes!

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Belladonna Took stands in front of her mirror, she’s not gussying up like most young Hobbit lasses might be. Oh no, she’s using the mirror to ensure that she has her sword belt and sheathe on right. After that is checked she goes through the rest of her checklist, fully stocked backpack with healing herbs and bandages? Check. Bow and quiver? Check. Handkerchief? Check. Nonperishable foods? Check. Extra clothes? Check. She grins, today she’s going to convince the wizard to take her on another adventure. The last one they went on she got as far as Rivendell before mother found out and called her back. This time she asked for permission, so mother can’t say she snuck off. With one last look in the mirror, and yes this time it is to check her appearance, she straightens her shoulders loving how Tookish she looks with her traveling jacket on and her breeches one mustn’t forget those, and walks out of her room. She snags up her pack as she leaves the room. If she knows her father and Gandalf’s schedule, which she does, then they should be out front smoking a pipe of Longbottom leaf.

Skillfully she dodges her younger sister, both still in skirts and about to go on a raid of Farmer Maggots Field. Her one and only younger brother pouts up at her as she dodges one of the traps he set up, the angry shriek behind her tells that poor Mirabella had not managed the same thing. She bursts out of the smial smacking into her oldest brother, Isengrim, and makes a left so that she is in front of her father and Gandalf. They both stare at her in amusement.

“Willyoupleasetakemeonanadventure!!!” she says quickly. Every part of her sings to be out on the road and she just wants to do as much adventuring as she can. Gandalf hums softly.

“I don’t know. The last time I took you on one your mother threatened to label me a Disturber of the Peace.”

She lets her eyes go big as she looks to her father.

“I got permission this time father, Mr. Gandalf, I did!”

Her father huffs out a laugh and nods at his old friends curious look. Blue eyes twinkle in what can only be amusement.

“Very well then. You are quite lucky, young Belladonna, I was just telling your father my time in the Shire has come to an end.”

Belladonna does **not** jump for joy nor does she let out a happy squeal, she merely smiles thank you very much.

While this is all happening the queen of all the Valar watches amusedly. At first she hadn’t believe Yavanna when she said that their little secret creations could be amusing or interesting. She loved them of course, they were just very… polite to a fault. But the Tooks, the Tooks are different and she enjoys watching them. Belladonna seems to have the most spirit out of the bunch she is watching and she has a soft spot for Olórin. She’s watched the lass since the time Belladonna could walk. Part of the Vala wishes desperately to be back on Middle Earth, to be among the people. Her hands drift down to the basin she’s using to watch the world and she caresses the image. _It would be fun_ , she thinks _to be amongst them once more_. She giggles just thinking about Olόrin’s face should she appear before him. Would she still appear as she is now, with pale skin and nightsky hair and lavender eyes, or would she have to take on the appearance of something more normal. Her husband would be most displeased with her. If he noticed she was gone, since they left and Morgoth was sent away Manwe has been lacking in giving her attention. She is the Hanger of the Stars, Queen and beautiful and is is dreadfully bored. Her eyes narrow. Her husband would not miss her too terribly and all the star were hung so why should she stay? Gathering up her magic she focuses on the spell needed to take her back to Middle Earth, she’d still have all her power and be immortal, she would just look like one of the four main races of Middle Earth. One last time she looks at the basin and the image of Belladonna Took. Time varies in Valinor and she wonders when she’ll appear. The last syllable is spoken and she hopes that it is a time when Belladonna is still alive.

White light curls around her and she can feel the air whip about her. Her shoulders relax and she lets a grin come to her face. For once she is doing something just for herself without worry how others with react. Her feet touch soft grass and her eyes open taking in the forest that surrounds her. The trees whisper their shock though she cannot understand what they say. She hears a gasp and turn around to come face to face with Belladonna. The Hobbit lass is dirty, round face smudged with dirt and grass stains. Either Hobbits are taller than they look or she got very small. Behind Belladonna is a very shaken looking Olόrin and she smiles.

“Gandalf…. You saw that right? Is she a Wizard like you?”

Olόrin or Gandalf as he likes to be called now shakes his head.

“ _Why hello Olόrin. It’s been a while.”_


	54. At the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a poem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I watched Battle of The Five Armies tonight. I bawled like a little bitch like I knew I would. Went through one whole travelers pack of tissues and started on a second one. And despite the tears I loved it... And it inspired this poem that has SPOILERS!!!!!!

And so the brave Lion  
Fell, held up and gutted  
Like a pig. His enemy  
Held no love for honor  
And let him fall to  
Crash before his brother  
Whom he had always protected.

Enraged the Wolf went  
On a hunt, feral with  
Hate and agony. He  
Charged, killing all in his  
Way. Till the son of  
His brothers' killer threatened  
The Star Walker he loved.  
They fought valiantly but  
Alas it was not enough  
And the Wolf was  
Ended before the  
Star Walkers eyes.

At the same time  
The Shield who had  
Wanted the best for  
The Lion and the Wolf,  
Battled the Defiler  
Enemy to his line  
And killer of his Lion.  
When all seemed  
Lost he sacrificed  
Himself to end the  
Monster. His home  
Won back but  
At a terrible cost.  



	55. I still have feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have feels and it translates into sad chapters

There is a common misconception between the world at large and the Durin family about the age of the two Heirs. Most assume that _Fili_ is the oldest, they are of course wrong. It is _Kili_ who is the oldest. For the first five years of his young life, Kili was an only child. Then his darling little brother was born. As time passed it just made more sense to the brunet to let the outsiders think that Fili was the older one. Fili was the calm one, he was the smart one, the one with a thicker beard even if his hair isn’t a Durin match. His brother was made it lead, it’s one of the most obvious things he could see. Fili was also a much bigger mother hen than he is, much like their mother. He remembers his promise to his mother, the promise he made to himself when their father died as he watches Fili be lifted into the air. The are in his lungs turns to dust and they constrict. Oh Mahal no, no, no, no!!!! He screams, internally and out-loud as Azog shoves his now bladed arm through Fili’s back and lets him drop. He lunges at the falling gold blur and catches his brother before he can crash into the ground. _No, no, no, no no. Wake up Fee. You gotta wake up. You can’t leave me._ He offers prayers, begs, threatens all the Valar he can think of as he clutches Fili to his chest. No breath escapes from soft chapped lips. How many hours had he watched, irritated and angry at the world, as his baby brother picked at his lips? Absent mindly peeling the skin from his lips until they bleed.

“Come back to me nadadith. Come on. Don’t leave me,” he cries softly. But Fili doesn’t respond. His heart shatters. No, no he can’t have failed his baby brother! There were so many times that he had tried to keep him safe, the trolls, the stone giants, when they were stuck at the Elven gate. While he hadn’t succeeded he hadn’t failed either. They had kept each other safe. And now… He bows his head, Fili would be avenged.


	56. Dragon AU Anyone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are very important to Hobbits. They are friends. They used to be important to Dwarves but now not so much. Especially the Dwarves of Erebor where one of Morgoths favorites attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lots of idea's for this. I love dragons and just imagining different sizes of Dragons make be giggle. Imagine a mouse sized Dragon who thinks it's a big bad protector? Adorable!

Chapter One: Shire Bound  
The Shire is a very nice place. If you like rolling hills and fields as far as the eyes can see. Nary a soul go hungry here, unless the summer is harsh, the fall merciless and Winter cruel. There are Dragons by the barrel full, small. wingless and cheerful as the Hobbits they’ve come to love. You see Morgoth or Melkor whichever name you choose to call him may have created all Dragons but not all Dragons felt his call to be evil. They sided with the free people, binding their lives together.  
  
To a Hobbit not having a Dragon Friend is Wrong, like having no foot or thin soles. A Dragon is a Hobbits best friend. Sharing thoughts, sights, hearing and taste. More often than not it’s the Dragons that determine weather or not a Courting pair will marry or not. If the Dragons do not get along the pair goes their separate ways. A Dragon and the Hobbit they Bond with have personalities that don’t clash, because why bind your life with someone that you’ll just argue with? And if a Hobbit is lucky more than one Dragon will Bond with them.  
  
Now enough about the land and the general people, let us begin our tale. It all begins you see in a hole in the ground. Where a Hobbit by the name of Bilibo Baggins lives. The hole or rather smial is a very nice one. For it isn’t a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was built by Bilbo’s father for his mother, rather large for just one Hobbit but perfect for a brood of fauntlings. Unfortunately for Bungo and Belladonna, Bilbo’s parents, they only had one child. Though they had what many consider quite the brood of Dragons, five Dragons Bonded with Belladonna and one Bonded with Bungo. Bilbo lives in that smial, not alone for he has three Dragons but Bag End can get rather lonesome with just one Hobbit. he has friends, Hobbit friends, that come over with their own Dragons but those friends have lives of their own so they never stay. But he is fine with that, really, he is.  
  
It’s a fine spring morning and Bilbo is lounging comfortably on the bench outside of Bag End. Briar, his only girl Dragon and his oldest one who is the size of a mouse, is sleeping in his coat pocket and Thistle the youngest of his Dragons who is the size of a rat is lazing underneath his shirt collar right on the nape of his neck. When a Wizard ambles up to him. Bilbo has to fight the very Tookish urge to wrinkle his nose when the shadow falls on him. Opening his eyes, which he had closed just enjoying the sun on his face well until the Wizard, and he takes in the tall Man before him. Memories flash in his eyes, not just his but all three of his Dragons supplying them as well, though the Mans name escapes him.  
  
 _~Gandalf,~_ Briar says with a yawn.  
  
 _~He’s a Wizard who makes Whizzpoppers,~_ mumbles Thistle.  
  
“Good Morning,” Bilbo says out loud, mentally thanking his Dragons. Thorn’s chuckle invades his mind.  
  
 _~Shouldn’t have said that Bilbie.~_  
  
Indeed he shouldn’t because Gandalf goes off on a tangent that ends in a question, which Bilbo answers cheekily. In fact he has a lot of Tookish fun riling the wizard up. Until the Wizard mentions an adventure. _I’ll take you on a grand adventure once the winter ends. You and your father and your little friends. We’ll go and see the Elves. There are a few I want you to meet. Just as soon as the winter ends._ The rest of everything is lost, he doesn’t even realize that he’s in his sitting room with Thorn, a very fat house cat sized Dragon, in his lap.  
  
 _~You invited him back for **TEA!** ~_ Briar exclaims scandalized.  
  
 _~Gandalf always brings trouble. That’s what Pa always said,~_ Thistle quivers, his head poking out of Bilbo’s shirt.  
  
 _~He’ll bring unwanted or at least uninvited friends,~_ warns Thorn. Bilbo takes a deep breath. He had invited a Wizard for tea which means the old man won’t be here until Dinner. If he keeps with habit. Ma always complained about that, how Gandalf got lost in his thoughts and therefor time.  
  
“I’ll just make lots of food then,” he says. Briar climbs out of his pocket, her hazel eyes wide.  
  
 _~Will you make that yummy fish plate?~_  
  
 _~Oh, oh, oh cranberry cookies!~_  
  
 _~And Ma’s chili!~_  
  
Bilbo laughs gaily.  
  
“Okay, okay. I’ll make all that.”

Meanwhile a bald headed Dwarf makes his way to Bag End. He plans on being the first Dwarf to their potential Burglar. He doesn’t trust that Wizard, not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking maybe some of the Dwarves that are descended from Dwarves of Moria still have Dragons but they hide their friends so that the others don't hurt them. What do you think?


	57. Christmas

The house is made up in near perfect Christmas cheer and yet there is little cheer to be found inside. Inside the house lived a Widow, her husband dead for ten years. A little boy has a plan to make his mother crack a smile. He had found an old scrapbook filled with pictures. It had taken sometime to find the people, even longer to convince them that he wasn’t pranking them. He never met his father, he had died before he had been born, thankfully not on Christmas as that would make his mission harder. His mother tried, really, really, really hard to be cheery during this month but it doesn’t help she isn’t a cheery person. Now hopefully he wouldn’t get in trouble for inviting all these people. He jumps when he hears the doorbell. They’re here.

He races down the hallway hoping to beat his mother to the door. He doesn’t. He holds his breath.

“Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins? Wha… What are you doing here?”

The man in the doorway looks like the pictures of his dad, there are differences of course. Bilbo smiles softly.

“I got a call asking me to come. It’s been too long Lobelia.”

He watches his mother bear hug the man, he tries to ignore the sniffles he hears come from his mother. He hears a throat clear and peers around Bilbo and his mother and sees a very grumpy looking man holding boxes.

“Is that Thorin Durin? You bagged him finally?”

“BELIA!”

She’s not quite smiling but it’s more than he expected. The two men are in the house and slowly more come. There is a man with his wife and many children. He thought his poor ears would burst at the loud “Hammie??!” his mother let out. Then came a family with a set of three girls and a baby boy closely followed by another family with just a little boy. His mother is chuckling and has a slight upturn of the lips. He feels so proud of himself even as he awkwardly tries to interact with the other children. The doorbell rings one more time and before his mother can open the door two blurs race in.

“Kili, Fili! What did I tell you!!!” A loud voice yells and his mother smiles, a true smile. She’s on her feet and hugging the woman who entered before he can blink.

“DIS!!!!”

“BELIA! I can’t tell you how happy I was when I got the phone call saying you were getting the gang back together. Your letters just weren’t enough. Is that little rascal over there Lotho?”

“Yes he is and he’s the reason you're all here I believe.”

“I wanted you to smile momma.”

There are tears in her eyes as she hugs her child to her.


	58. You're Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf isn't happy with Varda, Varda couldn't care less, Belladonna is a little confused cause a _Hobbit_ and someone watches from the deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the Belladonna met Varda

Gandalf splutters softly and Belladonna stares at the newcomer curiously.

“She is not a Wizard per say Bella dear. Can you give me and her some time alone to talk?”

“Of course,” she says backing away slightly. So Gandalf knows her and ain’t she something special. She’s heard, from her second brother, that the Woman in Man towns dyed their hair and that must be what this woman had done. Because her hair is a dark black purple that she’s never seen mostly because it’s more purple than black and it appeared as if stars are in it. Her head tilts she never thought she’d see a _Hobbit_ who dyed their hair. And her eyes… Belladonna shakes her head in wonder. While she pondering the new arrival Gandalf is staring down at Varda.

 _“What on Middle Earth are you doing here?”_ Gandalf easily slips back in Quenay. Varda raises an eyebrow at the scolding tone.

_“What does it appear that I am doing dear Olórin?”_

Gandalf splutters.

“You are Varda, Hanger of the Stars, Elbereth, Gilthoniel, Spouse and therefore Queen of Valar! You can seriously be risking your life by coming here. What will you husband think?”

Varda stands tall, though she doesn’t get very high she still pulls a very impressive figure as she draws in the light arounder causing shadows to lengthen.  
“I AM Varda, Hanger of the stars, hailed as Elbereth and Gilthoniel by others, Spouse of Manwe, Queen of the Valar, ear to those in need and can do whatever I wish. To think me reckless and to scold me like a child. My you have grown bold my dear,” she says her voice thundering the first part and getting softer at the end. Both the Vala and the Istari swivel their heads when they hear a gasp.

“You’re THE Varda?!”

Had she said that in Westron? Oops… Wait…

“Yes…. Why do you sound so shocked?”

“Well I always imagined you as an Elf… not… well a Hobbit.”

Varda looks down and sure enough her body had changed into the shape of a Hobbit. She smiles.

“So I am but so am I Varda.”

Her stomach choose that moment to grumble and tell her that just because she is immortal that she is now in a mortal plane and needs to eat. Belladonna laughs and Varda can’t help but to smile.

Vaire watches Varda curiously, what on Middle Earth is Vardie doing. She’s smiling and laughing and what is she… is she eating? Curiously the great weaver tilts her head. It looks really fun. Obviously she can’t leave right this moment, wouldn’t want her grumpy gus, over protective husband knowing she had left. Unlike Manwe, who has a very busy schedule Mandos gets to stay in his halls and he visits her weaving fairly often, not her, her weaving's. She snorts, oh her husband loves her but in a place with no time affectionate gestures are rare cause there's “always time to do it later.”


	59. If More Of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ........ I'm sorry!

Bofur is the first to fall. He pushes Ori out of the way, the scream Nori lets out when Bofur does not get back up drowns out Bifur’s own scream. Thorin watches them, gut clenched. Bombur falls to his knees and is lost to the world. Dori and Ori keep by his side as Nori and Bifur go mad in their grief. The next to fall, that Thorin see is Gloin. Oin’s roar causes not only their enemies but their allies to back up and he leads the newest charge. They’re all separated and Thorin only knows where his nephews and Dwalin are as they lead the blitzkrieg on Azog up on Ravenhill.

He sends his nephews to scout when they find it empty. Bilbo shows up, still wearing the mithril shirt he gifted him. The news Bilbo brings nearly stops his heart. When he sees Azog hold up Fili by his hair he knows he made his second biggest mistake. He screams as Fili falls and the rest is a haze of red. He’ll never know how Ori dies protecting Balin, loyal to his mentor till the end. Or how as they lay dying Balin finally confesses his love to Dori. How Bombur takes down a small herd of Orcs before he’s taken down. Bifur and Nori are taken down as one. Oin goes down protecting Dain. That as Kili drowns in his own blood he comes to a startling realization that while he loves Tauriel, it’s probably not One love. That Dwalin goes down shortly after Bilbo get hit in the head and knocked out. All he knows is that Azog will die by his hand, he will avenge his nephew.

Of course he wasn’t planning on dying with the white monster but it is the only way to kill him. He feels as if he can die in peace until the burglar stumbles over to him. Big hazel, though now in Bilbo’s distress they are a dark blue, hazy and blood pouring down from his head. He feels Bilbo’s hand on his wound and he speaks. He isn’t sure what he says, he hopes he asks for forgiveness but he notices that Bilbo’s voice is slurred when he answers back. He feels Bilbo lay down beside him. They lay there together and Thorin lasts long enough to hear Bilbo stop breathing. May Mahal see fit that their Hobbit is allowed to at least visit them, no matter how little he deserves to see him, in their Halls.

_But sad or merry, I must leave it now._


	60. Little Bofur

Bofur’s mother hadn’t been the healthiest dam in the world, in fact she was possibly the sickliest Dwarrow ever. And that is a trait that she passed on to her oldest son. Tomfur and his brother Tybur spent hours taking care of not only Nili but Bofur as well. Even Bofur’s aunt Baeril and his cousin Bifur helped. Then around the time that his brother is born he gets better. His mother does not. She gets worse and worse but still she smiles and laughs. Aunt Baeril says that she’s a pure spirit to smile though her body is failing her. He doesn’t remember when his Aunt and Uncle die. Just knows that Bifur is quiet and not even Ionu can draw him out of it. Nili dies when Bombur turns fifteen and their father dies not even a year later.

Bifur and his wife take them in. They already have have two children of their own but Ionu seems very pleased to expand her number. But life isn’t always merry. Bofur has moments of sickliness, that he hid from the adults, he didn’t want them to waste their money and like his mother he smiles and laughs through the pain. But there is some pain that can’t be hidden. And that is how he comes to met not only Oin the healer but the King of Erebor.

Bofur laughs gaily as he tickles his littlest cousin, Gronzur, while Gomrur does the same to Bombur. Gronzur pushes Bofur off of him and takes off, Bofur goes to follow him only the world swirls. His stomach sways in time with the world and it goes for fuzzy. He moves to cover his eyes and pain shoots up his arms. He bites his lip as he sinks down to his knees, which hurts just as much as trying to move his arm. The world is still spinning, his lungs seem to be closing in on him and his ears. He wants to scream because of the high pitched screech that is holding a single long note.

Around him his family is worried, the younger two crying and poor Gomrur is trying to calm them down and one of you please go get amad! Bofur is burning up in his arms and sweating while shivering which he’s sure isn’t a good thing. Finally amad appears and she takes Bofur into her arms. She speaks rapidly and he feels sick because what his amad isn’t saying he can see in her eyes. Bofur is really sick. She rushes them toward the mountain proper and toward a healer. It takes to long in the younger Dwarves eyes to finally find a healer, who grumpily swoops their Bofur away.

While they wait Gronzur starts to cry.

“It’s my fault!” he wails loudly startling Bombur. Bombur’s lip quivers.

“No it’s not.”

“Uh huh! If… If… if I hadn’t pushed Bofur he wouldn’t…”

Gomrur pulls his brother and cousin to him. They weren’t allowed in, they have to wait for amad or the healer to come out. Knowing this, he knows he can’t say that Bofur will be fine. Instead he just sings softly trying to soothe them.

“What have we here?” he hears a soft voice asks. There is a young Dwarrowdam standing before them and behind here is a grumpy looking Dwarf, though his face softens when he sees that they are looking.

“Nadad is sick,” Bombur whispers and Gomrur shushes him. They’re strangers they shouldn’t be talking to them. The lady gives them a sad look.

“And where is your amad?”

Bombur scrunches up his face and Gronzur speaks for him, much to Gom’s dismay.

“Amad is with Bofur!”

“We shouldn’t be talking to them. Their strangers. Adad wouldn’t be happy,” Gomrur grumbles and the younger ones look sheepish.

“Then let us remedy that. I am Thorin and this is my sister Dis. Where is…”

“Gom! Bom! Gron! Why are you in the healing wards,” the panicked voice of their adad reaches their ears and all three rush to him. Gomrur doesn’t pay much attention to the talking the adults do. He only has eyes for the door. He’s the oldest, it’s his job to keep everyone safe when amad and adad are busy. A little while later the door opens and they’re allowed in. Bofur looks so small on the bed. Thorin stays and talks a bit with them and it’s only Bofur’s breathless asking:

“Is that really the King of Erebor?”

That the little ones realize how important their guest is. Thorin chuckles and Dis waves off concerns. They still don’t really know what is wrong with Bofur, just that he’s really sick but he’ll get better hopefully. And of course Bofur is smiling through it all.


	61. Dragon AU Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin arrives and Briar keeps dishes from being thrown

Chapter Two: Fifteen In A Bag

It’s night time when Dwalin finally reaches the round green door with the Wizard’s mark. By the time he reaches it, Dwalin is very ready to kill someone. Every time he tries to find someone for directions they fled. Bloody Halflings. And then there are the times he swore he saw _something_ move but when he looks harder there is _nothing_. So feeling irritated and cagey he might have pounded on the door a little harder than necessary. The door is opened by a cute little fellow, and Dwalin isn’t sure if he means that meanly or truthfully, with neither the expected look of fear nor a look of shock on his face which is good… Possibly.

Indeed, instead of the two looks he expects the Halfling greets him with a look of aspiration. Though the look is soon masked with a rather blinding smile. Mentally Dwalin shakes himself and bows slightly.

“Dwalin at your service.”

The Halfling bows back nervously.

“Bilbo Baggins at yours… Oh dear… I didn’t… hmm… Please do come in, where are my manners. If you wait a moment I’ll get you a table for your bigger weapons…”

Dwalin steps in and Bilbo keeps talking, Dwalin doesn’t really listen to busy taking everything in, so when he appears silently at his shoulder Dwalin damn near takes Bilbo’s head off. Bilbo dodges the swing with the air of normalcy, muttering about umbrella’s and crazy best friends who want to take his head off. His nerves don’t settle down like the table that is set before him.

“Sorry didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll take your cloak now and you can place your bigger weapons here. Now I only knew a Wizard would be over so please excuse me when I ask how many Dwarves will I be entertaining?”

Why hadn’t the Wizard told them?

“Thirteen.”

A look crosses Bilbo’s face faster than Dwalin can interpret it and the Halfling grumbles under his breath.

“Thirteen Dwarves, a bothersome Wizard and myself… Right… Master Dwalin might I have your assistance?”

Dwalin scrunches up his nose at the proper way he speaks. He loves his brother, who speaks just like that, but he does not want to deal with another fussy proper dapper. However he does help the Halfling move tables to where they can all eat comfortably and thanks to his warrior training his jaw does not drop, he does not drool nor does he make an unmanly noise at the amount of food that follows. How? If…

“Lad?”

“When the Gray Wizard comes he brings trouble and unexpected guests. That my dearest guest is an _old_ Hobbit saying. So I knew he would have tricked some poor souls into following him as he always does. I only hope I made enou…” Bilbo gets cut off by a knock. He huffs and Dwalin chuckles.

“Feel free to dig right in!”

After his dear brother, _shorter not wider_ my hind end, shows up it gets hectic and Dwalin loves it. They show their appreciation the Dwarven way much to Bilbo’s fussy dismay.

“Did you hear that boys? He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

The miner is quickly becoming one of his favorites with his wicked sense of humor. Before the first dish can be tossed a small creature makes itself known. It makes loud hissing sounds and bird like noises that almost sound like cursing. At first Dwalin thinks it’s a weird mutated, strangely colored mouse. It’s gold, like actual gold with large clearly hazel eyes. Ori, his brother’s apprentice and scribe for the journey, squints his eyes at it.

“Is that a tiny Dragon?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has no set couple


	62. A Different View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Lobelia hadn't let an auction happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no Lobelia and Bilbo are not secret pining lovers just mega Bros.

“We are not auctioning anything off!”

“Lobelia dearest…”

“No! He… he might come back. We’re just staying to make sure your mother doesn’t get her claws into it.”

There is a small pause before a sigh is heard.

“Okay no auction.”

“Thank you for understanding Otho.”

Otho smiles gently at his wife as she gazes fondly at the room around her. Their cousin Bilbo has been gone for over a year. Many other Hobbit’s have started to whisper and he sees how it affects his wife. He smile becomes less real, her eyes darker. He’s always been jealous of his wife’s relationship with his Cousin. He got her to laugh first, got to see her true smile, had her before she was forced to turn ‘Respectable’ for their arranged marriage. It was only his mother’s planning to take Bag End that motivated Lobelia into doing it first. In fact Lobelia would be a staunch naysayer to the whispers of Bilbo being dead if his mother wasn’t a main voice behind them.

Let it be know that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins nee Bracegirdle does not get along with her mother-in-law Camelia. Her father-in-law she does get along with thankfully. Otho cannot count how many times he’s seen his wife literally bite her lips to keep from ripping into his mother. Which he appreciates. He loves his mother, she was a very good mother. A bit overzealous with Respectability but she raised him well. Part of him wonders if she would have married him if she hadn’t been forced to. Would he still be able to wake to her bright smile? They aren’t in love like his mother and father, they have a different love. Would Lobelia have married Bilbo if she could have?

He shakes his head and follows his wife. Is it possible to have a Heart in a person but not be that person’s Heart? He doesn’t know but it feels like it is possible.


	63. What if?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosamund 2882 which makes 58  
> Bramble 2883 which makes 57  
> Kymma 2884 which makes 56  
> Abigail 2885 which makes 55  
> Ivy 2887 which makes 53  
> Rosemary 2889 which makes 51  
> Bilbo 2890 which makes him 50
> 
> If my math is right.

Rosamund is eight years old when she gets a little brother. A squishy little brother that didn’t make too much noise but still made noise. She had no problems holding him if she had to. Though she doesn’t mind holding any of her younger siblings. Papa said they were _hers_ , hers to protect, to love, to teach; that she was going to be the one they look up too. Maybe she takes it too seriously stealthily protecting each one of them with the fierceness that few believe could come from a Baggins. And a Baggins she is. No one could ever think Rosamund is mute, the whole Shire has heard her shrill lectures when her siblings misbehave, but she is a person who prefers the quiet. She’s bookish to a fault and she is balanced out perfectly by her sister Bramble who is only a year younger. Those two are the matriarchs of the Bag End. Not the Baggins family because Grandma Laura is still alive.

She knows each and every strength of her siblings. Knows who they want to court, who’ve they’ve actually started the process but decided later that they didn’t want to. She even knows their schedule like she does that back of her own hand. So when she and her sisters head down to Bag End, they gave it to Bilbo when he came of age because he is the male heir, joined by Lobelia Sackville-Baggins nee Bracegirdle yet there seems to be no activity she is understandably concerned. Bilbo is rather Bagginish, he has his Tookish moments of course but he would never cancel something without giving warning.

The door to Bag End isn’t even locked when Rosamund tries the knob. Something dark grows inside her as she takes in the mud trodden rugs, the pillaged pantry, the ruined plumbing and the gunk on her mothers glory box that she keeps meaning to take home with her but it looks so nice where it is. She growls and her sisters fan out, hoping to find their wayward brother. Lobelia fidgets.

“Maybe he’s at Hammie’s?” she offers, she’s been on the receiving end of one of Rosamund’s lectures being a faunthood friend.

“He better be.”

He is _not_ at Hamfast’s place and if it wasn’t for Bell’s gentle prodding she wouldn’t know where her brother went. He left on an adventure with Gandalf. GANDALF! She fumes, the dwarves that Gandalf brought are the reason behind Bag End’s disarray and she’s going to have _words_ with that wizard. She tells her sisters to pack up, they’re going on a hunt. Bramble crows, even at fifty seven she’s up for an adventure.

“Lobelia be a dear and guard Bag End for me? If that fool wizard has gotten Bilbo hurt it may be going to new hands because I’m going to kill them both,” the polite tone the words are delivered in chill Lobelia and she nods. They’re only a week behind her brother, if they get ponies and she shudders at the thought maybe they can catch up.

Of course nothing goes as she plans and she left cursing up a storm to the shock of all but Bramble. Bramble just laughs as Rosamund vents her anger out on the _troll_ corpses. Bramble places a gentle hand on her older sisters arm, reminding her to breathe. When they arrive at Rivendell and boy isn’t it as pretty as it was when Momma last took her there. Rosamund hates adventuring, loathes it with every inch of her body unless she’s with family then she can kinda tolerate it. So when Lord Elrond takes them in with a smile and explains just what her little brother got into she has to excuse herself.

“You’re sister is scary Kymma… Want to practice your archery while she stews.”

“Oh Yavanna yes.”

The elves steer clear of the Baggins in a rage and Bramble just laughs.

“Momma might have been the one who was scary physically but Papa had a temper when his loved ones were in trouble. Why I remember this one time a bandit threatened to do something nasty to Momma and he went off. If you notice all her curses are cleverly disguised with sweet words.”

They leave shortly after and while they don’t escape the Stone Giants they do avoid the goblins. How they manage to get all the way to the small, for the person it was built for, house neither of the younger two know. Ivy and Rosemary fell like their feet are about to fall off and when they finally get their hands on Bilbo he is a very dead baby brother. The very large Man that called this place home opened his home and told them what they had missed. He enjoyed their own tales, Rosemary more than happy to be carried around all day by Beorn. Ivy wasn’t to impressed and often demanded that the bear give her her bunny back.

Mirkwood is empty and creepy when they reach it. Thankfully they don’t get lost in the forest like their brother did. They don’t find that out until later. Their heart jump to their throats when they see the wreckage of Lake Town. Oh was Rosamund going to have words with Gandalf. It is just their luck that they manage to get to Erebor/Dale the day after the Battle of Five Armies ends. And Rosamund moves with determination. First she will find Gandalf then she will find her brother or maybe the dwarf leader.


	64. Dori why you so hard to write?????

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried and probably failed at writing Dori

Dori watches over his brothers with a fierce protectiveness that goes far over even dwarrowdams vengance. And despite what Nori thinks, Dori knows every little secret. He knows why Nori has done the things that he has done, knows that if it wasn’t for the gingers sticky fingered ways they probably wouldn’t have lived as long as they have. But he also knows that he can’t show that he knows, that he has to put on a disappointed face. He has to be the visible demon because there are crueler ones hiding in the dark with their eyes on his family. And should they ever figure out that he knows. He shudders to think about it. So he plays the bad guy and watches the shadows a little too closely. He’s had his brush with the underground that Nori is now entrenched into. Knows how hard it is to get out of. It’s because of this that he is so protective. Their mother was a loving, good soul who had wanted only the best… her suitors however… They didn’t always have pure intentions. Not that it matters anymore what is done is done. Even if it means he has to be the one who is blamed for Nori never coming home, even if it means that Nori thinks that he is let down.


	65. The Time Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a SoulWatch that tells you when you will met your Soulmate. It's a flashing purple until you meet the one you're going to be with forever then it runs to zero and turns a steady green. But there are times when the number is already at zero, even rarer times when there are two watches.

Lobelia stares down at her wrist. Pain stabs at her heart and she touches it gently, ever so gently. There are two sets of numbers, her SoulWatches, one is continuously changing, there are times when it say that there is a day before she will meet her Soulmate, her Heart, then it will change and list a number far too long for her to be alive. The other…. the other has always been set at zero, gray and scratched out. Her father always looked at her with sadness in his eyes when she asked about, asked why it was gray instead of green, why there is a line going straight through the numbers. He would hold her tight and tell her he explain when she was older. He was never able to. Fell Winter took him from her and her mother grew bitter yelling at her and showing her the now grayed out numbers on her own wrist.

_“It means that they are dead. You’ll never meet the person whose soul belonged to that set of numbers and it’s doubtful you’ll ever met the other. Unnatural as it is to have two numbers,” her mother had sneered “It’s a good thing I have a proper match set up for you.”_

And that is how she became married to Otho, Otho who like her has a number that he had no hope of living too.

It is said that you can feel emotions from you Heart through if you try hard enough. And today she feels pain, despair, fear and hope. Something big is happening and her number has come down to a more realistic number. In two years she will meet her Heart. She should feel happy, her heart should be feeling like it can hurts. But instead she feels dread. Her Heart is clearly a Big Person, what Big Person will want a Hobbit? The Men in Bree are fond of them true but in the way you are fond of a pet. She doesn’t want to be a pet. And while she may not love Otho like two married people should love each other she is rather fond of him and doesn’t want to leave him alone. His numbers keep jumping.

“Belia dear?”

“Yes Otho dearest?”

“If they come….”

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Otho’s hand covers her hand, taking it off of her delicate wrist and runs his own fingers over the flashing purple numbers.

“Don’t let me ruin your happiness.”


	66. Thraduil Sent Legolas After Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas finds Strider, he's not what the Elf expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Thrandy sent Legolas after Strider at the end but Strider isn't Strider just yet.

Legolas frown down at the little boy staring up at him. Surely this twelve year old boy could not be the _Ranger_ that his father told him to find. There is no way that the Rangers would let a child join their ranks. Mandos hall’s the boy hadn’t even been where his father told him the _man_ would be, some Ranger had taken pity on him and told him to go to Rivendell. The child responds to Estel more than he does Strider. When he gets back to Mirkwood he just may have to kill his father for sending him on a wild goose chase. But the child is cute and has potential so he shall stay, besides he finds he enjoys being a story teller.


	67. Damn Them All

Lobelia smirks softly as yet another pretty man turned to stone just by staring at her. Reaching up she pats the beautiful brown snakes that made up her hair. Her eyes search out each statue, a growing feeling of accomplishment building in her battling the ever present depression and loneliness. She stretches, her long snake like body with emerald green scales reaching an impressive three feet six inches. She is a medusoid and damn proud of it. Her mother never told her how she came to be, no love story about a man who could keep his eyes closed or a god coming down from the heavens to have a roll in the hay. There were nights when she would whisper that she was a beautiful girl but Lobelia heard her cry at night afterwards. She scoffs, she _is_ beautiful, damn anyone who said otherwise. Delicate hands run over a cowering statue, after all the ones who loved to criticize her were the ones who tried to hide from her gaze. She is beautiful, inside and out. She is.


	68. A Start?

Belladonna looks down at the children in her cart sadly. Her rabbit ears twitching every which way, always on alert for danger. The Shire had been attacked, smials had been desolated and no one had come to their aid. She feels like crying when she thinks of the family that she’ll never see again, whether it be from them dieing or simply going a separate way. Why none of their allies came to their aid she doesn’t know, other than the Elves of Rivendell where too far to get help to them. But the men of Bree, the Dwarrows of Ered Luin they could have helped but they did not. Hell the Men of Bree almost hadn’t done business with her when she stumbled in, bleeding and guarding five terrified faunts. Thankfully someone saw and either pitied her or sympathized with her and helped coerce the shopkeepers into selling her items she needed. Sad eyes that remind her of the Heart she’s lost look up at her.Eyes that depending on how the light hits them shine a different color.

_~Momma are we gonna make it?~_

“Of course we are darling. My friend Elrond is going to be so happy to see you.”

_~Really? What about Hamfast and Bell and Lobelia and Otho? Well he be happy to see them?~_

She smiles down at her youngest, the only one to survive, making a mental note to start teaching him Westron sooner rather than later.

“He will. Elrond loves children. He has three of his own. Why don’t you go back to sleep Bilbo dear?”

_~Okay Momma.~_

She pats his head, scratching behind his ears gently. Deep in her throat she starts to hum a lullaby that was taught to her by her mother. Soon her baby is back asleep and snuggling with the other four faunts she managed to save. Once she gets to Rivendell she’ll send out messengers to see where her family wound up. Part of her hopes that maybe one day they can go back to the Shire, but she doubts that the Orcs will leave or that anyone close enough to it will see fit to take care of them. Not if they wouldn’t even send a few to help keep the Shire from being overrun in the first place. With a shaky breath she urges her pony to keep moving. When they get to Rivendell she will sleep. Until then she won’t rest, can’t rest. Not with Kittens to protect.


	69. What if Part Two

They make their way through the combined camp of Elves, Men and Dwarves with ease. Rosamund isn’t sure if it is because of their small size or if it is the leftover chaos of the battle they missed. Despite concentrating on where she puts her feet she knows exactly when Abigail and Kymma separate from the group. Abigail is a healer and Rosamund knows her little sister will help those she can and Kymma will keep her safe. No one hurts her sister, to court one is to court the other. Ivy and Rosemary continue to follow the older two siblings, mainly for want to see what they will do to Gandalf once they find him. Aimlessly they wonder until a conversation that Rosamund hears on chance has her freezing. Her hand darts out and she tugs the Elf down to where she can see his or her face.

“Pardon me but could you repeat what you just said?” she asks, each word said slowly masked with politeness but drenched in anger. The tries to free their shirt from her grasp but Rosamund has dealt with fauntlings far more slippery than the Elf. Finally the Elf stops trying and sighs grumpily.

“I said madam, that I do not understand why we continue to assist a race that is willing to throw their ally over a parapet when they only meant to help. I doubt the fact that the Mad King will change his mind on giving our King what he wants whilst on his death bed. Last I heard the mad Dwarf King was trying to find the Halfling he nearly killed, I doubt it was to apologise,” the Elf speaks slowly as if speaking to one who is dim, the voice deep for their race marking him as a he.

There is a clicking sound as Rosamund grinds her teeth together. Parts of what the Elf said echoes in her mind; _Mad Dwarf King, Throw ally, Halfling nearly killed_ … oh she was going to skin someone! Bramble noticing her sister’s growing anger takes over holding the Elf’s shirt and pulls him even closer to them. She may not have Rosamund’s Bagginsness but she could pull of a few polite things like smoothing out the wrinkles she and her sister caused. Coming to grips with her ire Rosamund smiles a smile normally reserved for Auntie Camellia.

“Would you be a dear and escort my sisters and I to this… mad king? I have words I must say to him and a certain gray Wizard who I am sure is sulking about.”

It does not matter to her that said king is apparently on his death bed, if anything she had the right to assist him right into his Halls. The Elf opens his mouth to speak, most likely to reject the asking, but he must see something be it their travel weary appearances and weapons or some expression that they must be making for he closes his mouth quickly. Without looking behind her Bramble swats Ivy who she figures has taken to playing with her special darts. They don’t want to intimidate him like they might do a handsy drunk in Bree, they need his help after all. She bats her eyelashes, feeling ridiculous.

“Please?”

Slowly the Elf nods, managing to look graceful even half bent over with his shirt in the grip of someone shorter than him and dumbfounded, the bastard… Rosamund grumbles internally, apparently she needs to rest if she’s thinking such uncouth thoughts.

“You have our thanks Master Elf,” she says with a real smile and the four of them curtsy. They follow him, stepping around Dwarves, Elves and Men who are in the process of separating their dead from the dying and alive whilst burning the corpses of Orcs and Goblins. Their guide leads them to a large and gaudy tent.

In front of the tent are three Dwarves and Gandalf, they look to be having a rather important conversation. Squaring her shoulders Rosamund smiles a very cold smile that has her sisters shivering, the last time they saw that smile was Fell Winter. Moving with all the grace she can manage while wearing travel torn clothes, a dress _because she is a Baggins thank you_ with breeches underneath, and being rather tired she shoves her way to Gandalf. She must have caught the one Dwarf with fiery red hair and a peg leg off guard for her teeters for a moment, she of course apologies demurely to make it seem as if she hadn’t meant to bump into any of them. Standing before Gandalf she smiles a bit wider, the fact he is an _**old**_ family friend adding to her ire.

“Why hello there Gandalf. Such a strange coincidence that we should meet here! You’re looking healthy,” she says her voice like honey plagued with poison, they both know she doesn’t mean what she says, Gandalf looks like he has gone through Mandos’ Halls and back. Apparently the peg leg Dwarf and the rather bald looking buff Dwarf are well acquainted with the tone she uses because the snort in a way only those on the outside can, amused and sympathetic mixing together. She ignores them both focusing solely on Gandalf.

“You see Grandpa Gandalf,” it’s been ages since she last called him that, right after the funeral of mother’s in fact “my sisters and I are looking for someone. You might know him.”

Bramble’s fingers curl lightly into the long beard of the Wizard.

“Our little brother you see, he’s gone missing. Not a letter to be found, however we were able to track him here. We learned some very interesting things on the way too.”

Ivy and Rosemary have moved to stand beside the Dwarves wanting a good view of the impending explosion. Bramble yanks hard on Gandalf’s beard forcing the great and powerful being to bend down. The sweet look on Rosamund’s face is starting to twist with anger.

“You, a dear, sweet, loved, honored friend not only to mother but to grandfather Took snatched our _baby brother_ away to go on some suicide mission with Dwarves that includes but isn’t limited to TROLLS. Oh yes we know about the trolls. We had a nice chat with Lord Elrond, he was quite forthcoming with information. Now where was I. Ah yes, TROLLS, ORCS, a DRAGON and finally the VERY PERSON YOU TRICKED HIM INTO HELPING TRYING TO KILL HIM!? Which I didn’t learn until a rather rude Elf told me. Am I missing anything ... ah yes the war, battle thing that we seemed to have missed. You know Gandalf there is precious little I hold dear to me. You know how I get when that is endangered. What were you thinking? And don’t give me the same excuses that you told father when you swept mother off. There is always another way, another person and definitely time to tell older siblings where he is being taken,” Rosamund’s eyes are nearly black as she reaches the end of her rant, striking a painful resemblance to her mother. Angering a Hobbit is never wise. They may be quick to forgive but they never truly forget and some hold grudges long after the deed has been done. None more so that the Baggins when their loved ones have been hurt.

“I will be having words with the Dwarf king that thought it prudent to hang my brother from a… what was it again?”

“Parapet, sister,” Rosemary pipes up softly and the fluffy Dwarf flinches.

“Ah yes, a parapet. Now if you excuse me, I shall be going into that tent to have said conversation. Bramble, Ivy Rosemary make sure I’m not stopped.”

The Dwarves stare at the three females that stand in their way as Rosamund makes her way into the tent.


	70. Time is Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of (The?) Time Begins. THe one with SoulWatches

Dis looks down at her wrist, fingers gently tracing the first set of numbers feeling the ache of death. Vili, her Vili gone before the last piece to their soul was even born. Oh how many times had she looked out at the rolling green hills of the world outside and considered searching out that last set of numbers? Not that she ever would, not with two children and her older brothers to look out for. A smile graces her lips, it seems that fate has a plan set out for her though to meet her last One. _I wonder what they will look like, what they will think of me, what they might of thought of you Vili._

In two years time she will meet the person whose soul belongs to the set of numbers that she has watched go from a yellow detailing the years she must wait for her One to be born to the soft purple of all Watches. While a trio of lovers isn’t unheard of in among common Dwarrows amongst Royalty it is rarer than mithril. Her Grandfather before the madness took him would take her wrist and smile, his own Watch grayed and slashed, tell her that Mahal had blessed her doubly. It always made her heart soar to hear such things for others hid poisoned remarks behind jeweled hands. After all, all three of the Prince’s children had to wait for their Souls to be born, surely that was a sign of Mahal’s ill will. Especially the years that they would have to wait. Her brothers would leave their Ones a rather young widow or widower.

Someone clears their throat behind her, causing her to start. Turning around she see Frerin. Scarred, missing half an arm and blind in one eye her brother is a miracle that she will never stop thanking the Valar for. He should have died at the Battle of Azanulbizar, should have been one amongst the many lost that bloody day. He smiles at her though his eyes are dark and gloomy. He wanted to go with Thorin to reclaim Erebot but Thorin denied him. She opens her arms and he happily steps into the hug.

“They have left and we are stuck here. They will be lost before the day ends.”

“Aye but just this once we must let them stumble… That is what amad would say.”

Frerin chuckles softly. She can see his pain though, his worry for their older brother, his doubt that when Erebor is reclaimed he will be worth being her Prince. And while she knows that he is she knows no words will sway his thoughts from the dark, just like they won’t sway his thoughts from the dark about his One whom he refuses to search for.

“At least we are together namad.”

“Always.”


	71. A Start? Part Two

Elves Lobelia has come to decide aren’t a bad as Men. They still do that annoying thing where they treat Hobbits as children. She had nearly kicked the Elf that had done that to Bilbo’s mommy. Her hands clench slightly and she keeps her head bent as she walks. She doesn’t like Elves, not like Bilbo and Hamfast do. Hamfast has always loved Elves and silly Bilbo likes everything but that’s what happens when you mommy is a Took. That’s what her Daddy say...said. Her eyes burn slightly but she doesn’t cry. She the oldest Fauntling kitten know, it doesn’t matter to her that there's only three months between her and Bilbo and seven between her and Hamfast, she the oldest so she has to be strong. And being strong means ignoring the flashes of strong hands lifting her up onto shoulders and a loud laugh that she loved to cause. Part of her wants to blame the Elves, but even at her age she knows that the Elves were too far to help and the Elves in the Gray Havens are ones too hurt to help. Hearing voices she quickly steps into the shadows.

“What have you learned my dear?” That’s the voice of Elrond, she actually likes this Elf. He’s nice despite his normally grumpy looking face. His cat tail is long and sleek and he lets the faunt kits latch on to it so long as they keep their hold gentle.

“Hobbits will live another day. We’re spread around, some of my cousins are even thinking about trying to make it to Rohan. Most settled in human towns far enough in away from the Shire to be safe,” Bilbo’s mommy said that and she sounds so defeated.

“None have settled in Bree or Ered Luin. If it wasn’t for the kittens I’d make my way to Bree and demand an audience to their mayor or what ever position the leader holds and demand an explanation. We sent out missives as soon as we noticed orcs were near. I know because I helped my brother write them! And after that I would go to the mountains and beat some sense into the Dwarrows. We sent them food and other supplies whenever they needed it so where were they!”

Lobelia bites back a whimper at the anger in Bilbo mommy’s voice. She instead turns it into anger. Where _were_ they? Why didn’t they help? It’s their fault that she lost… that everyone lost someone! Her eyes burn, with tears, with anger, with so many feelings she doesn’t know the name of.

“Which King did you send the missive to?”

The question confuses both Lobelia and Bilbo’s mommy.

“The immigrants from Erebor know what it’s like to lose a home. If the missive was sent to them they would not have let another feel the same loss. The King of Ered Luin however is a bit like Thranduil. He keeps to his own borders and that’s it.”

Lobelia scoffs softly and covers her mouth. It wouldn’t due to be caught spying.

“I don’t know which one got it Elrond,” there is that defeated tone again “To tell the truth, I don’t know much anymore.”

There is the sound of feet moving and Lobelia coots deeper into the shadows.

“It will be okay Bella my dear.”

Bilbo’s mommy is crying, she never cries cause Bilbo’s mommy is strong, almost as strong as… Lobelia cuts her thoughts off quickly. She doesn’t want to think about him. Elrond tries to sooth Bilbo’s mommy and Lobelia feels the hate that has just been sowed toward Men and Dwarrows grow.

“I miss them Elrond! Yavanna, I miss them. I can still hear their screams and Bungo yell at me to run. I still see Belia clutching onto her brother…”

Hearing enough Lobelia runs the other way. Barely she feels tears making their way down her face. She doesn’t want to think, to hear someone talk about her big brother. The brother that always kept her safe. The one who whispered tales of grand adventure into her ears, who flirted with Lindsey to keep Mommy from talking to Otho’s mommy about marriage, she knows what marriage is even if she has a hard time saying it. Her Mommy and Daddy were Married. She doesn’t want to be the Mommy to Otho’s Daddy.

Finally she stops running and scrubs hard at the tears, big siblings don’t cry. Cheldric didn’t cry, not even when… She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. No, no, she’s not thinking about it. It’s nap time, she can feel it. Having a goal in mind she hunts down the other faunt kits and gathers them up on the big bed the Elves gave Bilbo’s mommy for them. Steadily she grooms their ears and Bilbo grooms her ears, which causes Otho to glare at him. When they’re all asleep, she lets a few tears fall and clutches those closest to her. She’s not the only one to lose a sibling. They all did. They all lost someone and it’s all the Big People’s fault. When she sleeps he dreams of a booming laugh and her two favorite males hold her close and make her smile.


	72. Monologue

I laugh loudly, cruelly, wiping away the tears that dare leak out of my eyes. Oh my you are a silly little Dwarf. A smile tugs on my lips and I bend down to whisper in your ear.

“I loved you, I would have done anything for you,” I laugh again and maybe, just maybe, it sounds a bit unhinged “But I was never good enough was I? I could never hold you interest or your gaze. I shan’t even guess if I ever held you loyalty.”

Stepping back, stepping away from you hurts like a sword through the gut. And yes, I know what that feels like. Oh how I know what that feels like.

“You never asked about me, about my family, about my life before you tumbled into it. But I guess I never could measure up to the things _you_ must have seen.”

My how shocked you look, how desperate. But for what I wonder. Are you scared? Oh that’s a laugh. _You_ scared of _me_!!! I want to step forward, brush your hair from your face, calm you, ease the fear from your face but I can’t. I physically can’t. Because all that is holding me here is my anger.

“I died for you. I died like the miserable undersized rat of a Burglar I am. Azog remembered me you see. I felt you bad about taking the Arkenstone that I left the coat you gave. Slipped it in Fili’s bag I did. Not that anyone noticed, not that you cared.”

I’m pacing now, trying to remain angry so that I can tell you things.

“You never cared for me. Don’t lie! You loved the boys, even in the thick of your madness I saw the love. If I had said some of the things Kili did you would have killed me.”

In a flash I turn toward you.

“I screamed out for you, when he ran me through. Did you hear it? I saw you, surely you must have heard it. I was so alone, so alone with only his mocking face above me when I breathed my last breath.”

You’re crying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before….

“I just wanted peace. I wanted you to be safe! For you to be the king I knew you were be but all you cared about was that damned stone.”

I feel my rage leaving me and I feel so cold. This is not what I wanted when I prayed for a chance to speak to you again. When the Ring whispered in my ear. It’s dangerous isn’t Thorin? It’s my Arkenstone…

“I love you still… The Ring… Beware the Rin…” 

My voice goes out and I reach for you, wanting to right the wounds I caused you with my words. I love you, I love you, forgive me, forgive me, goodbye my King.


	73. I Never Want To Hear These Words

Everyone had them on their wrists, the last words your soulmate will ever speak to you. Some groused that it wasn't fair, that is should be the first. But with this you choose your own love, you choose based on who they are. Or at least that is what his mother said back when he asked. Feeling depressed at the sight of the words on his wrist. He doesn't want to think of the actions that will lead his soulmate to say that too him. His mother used to hold him and rock him to back to sleep when he's wake up screaming, his mind making up scenarios for him. His young fingers tracing the words on her wrist. _'It seems I'm going on adventure without you Bella my love'_ it long winded and something he can see his father saying and it scares him as much as his own. There are times he wants to read his father's, see if it corresponds to hers.

It's during the Fell Winter that he finds out what his father's wrist. They are out in the driving snow, cuddled together. Mother had moved a head to scout leaving him and father to guard the other Hobbits. On their way to the Took Smials where they will hopefully be safe. It's a long shot but on his mother holds on to. The howling starts and his father stands up, calling the other adults to him and commanding Bilbo to watch the young faunts. His father's wrist catches the fire light and he's able to read it. _'Path me a path my Baggins and I will follow.'_

Hearing the words exchanged is so much worse than reading them and he isn't surprised when his mother passes away just three years latter when he is twenty four. His Auntie Camellia and Uncle Bungo and Cousin Otho move in with him. Otho and Bungo are sympathetic and when they are in the room so is Auntie. But Auntie is a Sackville and Sackville's aren't the nicest Hobbits and they spit harsh words. Though Bilbo knows Auntie isn't all bad, her wrist tells him that. _'Sleep darling, I will be here when you wake.'_ And it matches Uncle Bungo's _'I feel so tired love.'_

When he turns thirty three they leave, Uncle Bungo is sick and Auntie Camellia is worried. Cousin Otho is 'missing' more like ran off so he doesn't have to marry his best friend Lobelia Bracegridle. Lobelia who looked about to kill Bungo and even Bilbo who was just a bystander when the two familes decided to announce the betrothal in Bag End's dinning room. He's just glad the fiery lass didn't break anything.

At the age of fifty he's become the perfect Baggins and his Cousion Otho was caught by Lobelia's unwilling older brother and dragged back and now they are now married. Their friends Bell and Hamfast laugh and are sickeningly in love. And of course that is when a Wizard comes knocking on his door dragging him off an an adventure. The Dwarves, or Dwarrows as they like to be called, cover their wrists and Bilbo doesn't understand it. But then again he does. He doesn't hide his Words and they don't ask. Until they do.

“My I read your wrist?”

The question startles him, his nose is clogged and his ears feel like someone shoved cloth in his ears and don't get him started on his throat and eyes. Blearily he looks and Thorin and nods his head, shakily holding out his left wrist. The words on his wrist bleak and scary to his mind. He takes a shaky breath as the Dwarf he has come to love runs his calloused fingers over the ink. And then he kisses them. His world screeches to a halt, a good halt.

Then they are in the Mountain and the Gold Sickness takes hold of his Dwarf. And he sees Fili's wrist bare for the world to see as the world to see. The blond prince has his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. Bilbo tries to comfort him as much as he can as the sentence stands out against the Dwarf's skin. _'I am not a child, I do not need to be protected.'_

Hobbits are not meant to fight. They're soft and while they are quiet that is the extent to their abilities. But he still fights with everything he has. He hears Fili's last word and hears Kili's agonized scream. It hurts. He tries to fight, tries to keep what is left of his newly acquired family together. It doesn't work to well and his world goes black.

He wakes from the black world of unconsciousness and finds his Dwarf on the frozen lake. He clutches Thorin's hand helplessly, crying his heart out, begging him not to leave. His Dwarf laughs, a choking laugh, blue eyes dazed.

“Go little Burglar. Go far from here.”

Bilbo sobs even louder, hotly refusing to leave. He loves Thorin so much, he won't leave.

“Forgive, please forgive me. I couldn't stop it. I tried to help. Forgive me for stealing it.”

But Thorin is long gone and he is alone again. He screams, cries and his head wound bleeds like only head wound can causing him to faint. He leaves the mountain, can't stand to see it. Dain stops him, says the words if Thorin had said would have wiped away the crippling grief he feels. “If more of us valued food and cheer over gold the world would be a merrier place.”

It doesn't help and he runs like the coward he feels he is back to Bag End. Otho is there with Lobelia and Hamfast and Bell. They wrap him in their arms and hold him tight. He feels better for a time, shocked he holds on so long and he thinks it has something to with his ring but he cares not. Because it lets him live long enough to raise Frodo, to give him his ring to his Nephew. To see the One Ring destroyed and then on the Ship he falls asleep one last time.


	74. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh. I don't know how to explain this one. Other then it contains mental instability. And Dark thoughts.

Humorless laughter echoes in the room so much like a prison. The white walls and floors glisten in the spots where they aren’t covered. The room looks as like something exploded. Clothes, books, and other things are scattered around the room chaotically. Not that the occupant of the room minds. Anything to get rid of the white. Oh Mahal above he hates that color. So easily stained and blinding. He takes short breaths counting in his mind as his laughter dies down. Today isn’t a good day for him. Nothing seems to be going right and it’s wearing down his already frayed nerves. There is a reason why his baby brother stuck him here instead of keeping him at home. He’s gotten worse, he knows that, knows that one day he could become a danger to the nieces and nephews he loves more than life itself. Standing slowly he moves off the bed and goes to stand before the mirror, it’s not glass just reflect plastic that can’t be gotten off the wall… Not that he has tried. Oh no. He glares at the image reflected back at him. Hating the brown hair that hangs limply in two braids, no longer curly and happy looking. Hating the eyes that are so dull he can’t even tell what color they are anymore. Hating that even though he can feel his ribs, his hip bones, there still is that damnable roll of fat.

He’s broken, fractured in many pieces, he knows this. Because surely a person who isn’t broken wouldn’t think the things that he thinks. Surely an unbroken person wouldn’t go from being happy to being sad within seconds. Not wanting to get out of bed for weeks at a time. Surely an unbroken person wouldn’t be able to ignore bodily needs like going to the bathroom or drinking water just because they wanted to finish something that turns into many things. Would an unbroken person strive for organization; organizing books first by their height then organizing them by author, by title, by series only to day later throw them all of the room in a fit of emotion? He doubts it. The psychologist that he goes to tells him that it is normal, or as normal as a person can be. Says that he has signs of being Bipolar along with some OCD tendencies. Just tendencies he says because he doesn’t have to do things in certain set of numbers, doesn’t freak out if things aren’t organized, doesn’t count his steps. What that psychologist doesn’t know is that he does count his steps and it is very hard for him not to twitch when things are chaotic. Unless said chaos is protecting his eyes from the horrid white floors of his room. 

There are many things he doesn’t tell his psychologist. Like the voice that always reminds him of everything he’s done wrong. That whispers cruel things. _No one would notice if you disappeared. No one would care. They pity you and only put up with you because they have too. If you died no one would mourn you._ On his good days he can ignore that voice but on his bad days… On his bad days he scares himself. And today is a bad day. A very bad day. The voice is whispering in his ears, it won’t stop. Part of him wants to crawl back into bed, he doesn’t want to be awake but he doesn’t want to sleep either. So instead he slides down onto the floor. Listlessly playing with a pen that he finds there. He’s missed breakfast and he knows if he doesn’t move he’ll miss lunch too. A shaky sigh escapes him. Would it be so horrible if he just… never woke up again?

“Oi! Bofur lunch is bein served! Guess what, it’s yer favorite!” Standing in his doorway is his best friend. A kleptomaniac and compulsive liar Nori's only here at the Istar Home of Healing by court order. Got caught one too many times. When Bofur makes no move to stand understanding enters his eyes and the lithe ginger moves to sit beside Bofur. They sit together in silence for a bit. Bofur leans into Nori and Nori stays quiet knowing that if he spoke then the moment would be broken and Bofur would close up completely.

“Lets go eat,” Bofur speaks softly after the third time Nori’s stomach growls. Nori helps his friend up and together they walk into the cafeteria. Where there is nothing covering the tiled white floors and Bofur is careful not to step on a crack, keeping his feet inside the white little boxes and Nori does the same, his hand holding Bofur’s. And when Bofur start to count, _One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three,_ he does too. They sit down away from the friends they normally sit with, his head shaking just slightly to let the others know that its one of _**those**_ days. When Bofur plays with the food more than he eats it Nori tries to distract him knowing that Bofur will eat out of habit if his mind is occupied. Some might say that he is a saint to help Bofur as much as he does but Nori doesn’t see it that way. He just sees it as helping a friend who helps him, who helps those he can on his good days. And to tell the truth he’s a bit selfish too. On Bofur’s bad days he gets his friend all to himself. Gets to assure himself that the nasty little voice his friend has in his mind hasn’t convinced Bofur to do something stupid.


	75. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something that just popped into my head.

Purgatory is gray as always when they stop. Exhausted and tired from killing to remain alive. The silence is almost stifling and it makes him edgy. It's never a good thing when Purgatory is silent.

"I used ta have a brother. Had a cousin too."

Startled Thorin turns to look at his traveling companion. The vamp's braids seem to droop and the ever cheery moustache is limp.

"Between da two I was da middle one. Bombur was da youngest. Had da brightest red hair ya ever did see."

Unsure what Bofur is wanting Thorin stays silent.

“I’m gonna help ya find yer angel and den I’mma help ya get da hell outta here so that you can be wit yer brother,” Bofur looks over at him and smiles “I understand why ya did what ya did brother. Don’t let nobody tell ya different.”


	76. Brother 2

They are sitting on yet another dingy motel couch watching TV when Frerin speaks up.

“You know I’m not going to do this forever right?”

Thorin looks at his little brother, just taking him in.

_“Of course you’re not going to do this forever. You’re so smart you can do anything you want. The college that accepts you better appreciate you. You’re better than me… Better than even mom.”_ That’s what he means to say. Instead his mouth betrays him.

“Mom isn’t going to like that.”

The look on Frerin’s face tells him just how much he messed up.

“Yeah well mom doesn’t like anything I do anymore.”

“Come on Frerin you don’t mean that.”

Frerin scoffs and looks at Thorin.

“Dude, when was the last time me and mom had a conversation that didn’t end in yelling? You can’t answer that can you?”

“It’s cause she doesn’t understand. You know what’s out there. You know why we do what we do.”

“No I don’t! I want to be normal Thorin. Mahal above do I want to be normal.”

Thorin tries to smile.

“You’ll never be normal geek.”

“Shut up Thorin.”


	77. Brother 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is mainly dialog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about separating the Brother bits as a separate story. What do you think? And should I add something other than dialog to this? I was going to but... I don't know I like it like this.... But it technically could have more....

“You only have one job. One job that is more important than _anything_ , do you understand Thorin? You take care of Frerin, make sure he stays happy and healthy.”

“Yes momma.”

_Take care of Frerin._

“Torin!”

“Wha… What did you say Frer?”

“Torin! Torin!”

“MOOOOOM! Frerin said his first word!”

“What!?”

“Torin!”

_Take care of Frerin._

“It’s okay Frer it’s just a scrape. I got you baby brother.”

“It hurt.”

“I know. Want me to kiss it to make it better?”

“Uh huh.”

“There. Does it feel better?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good.”

_Take care of Frerin._

“Where the hell were you!?”

“I just stepped out for a minute honest!”

_SMACK_

“Damn it Thorin what have I told you?”

“My only job is to take care of Frerin. Frerin is the most important thing.”

“That’ right. Now pack your shit, we have to leave NOW.”

_Take care of Frerin._

“I’m hungry Thorin. When is mom coming home?”

“I don’t know Frer… here take the rest of mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m full.”

 

“My aren’t you a handsome boy! How much for an hour?”

_Take care of Frerin._

“What do you mean you’re dropping out of high school?”

“I’m not smart like you little brother, it’s better this way. No wasting time on stuff I can’t understand. I’ll be able to get hours at the jobs that will hire me. We’ll be able to pay for stuff with actual money if mom is gone longer than she plans.”

_It’ll also be easier to keep an eye on you this way._

“Well… if you’re sure…”

Take care of Frerin.

“Damn it Ambrdeth yer being an idgit!..... Don’t you walk away from me woman!”

“Don’t act like you know what I’m thinking!”

“I know enough! Look at Thorin! He’s got a broken leg and you don’t care!”

“Don’t Fundin.”

 

“Come on kids we’re leaving!”

“But mom me and Dwalin are….”

“Now Frerin!”

“And if I see yer idgit ass back on my property I’ll fill it full of buckshot!”

_Take care of Frerin._

“You let him leave?”

“He wanted to.”

“You let him leave.”

“He’ll be happier and safer there.”

 

“Mom?”

“Don’t talk to me right now Thorin… I’m so disappointed in you right now.”

_Take care of Frerin… Well I did and now I have nothing left to do..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My real life is kicking me in the ass. The grandmother that I know the best. Who has been with my whole life has had her lungs collapse twice and has lung cancer so I'm not the most emotionally stable person. BUT! I'm trying to stabilize myself and writing helps.


	78. A dino story that I will probably continue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur lives somewhere in a jungly third world country, I'm thinking maybe Brazil. I'm thinking about them living in England before then but I'm American and know jack shit about British anything other than stereotypes.

Bofur is a miner by trade and a toymaker by heart. And there is plenty of opportunities for both trades in the small village in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere surrounded by jungles and the quarry where Bofur spends most of his time working. It’s a village that his cousin Bifur stopped at during on of his tours whilst he was in the Guard, before he took a bullet to the brain. Before the older male lost nearly all ways to communicate. It was a large shock to Bofur when his cousin started to talk in ancient Gaelic, Bofur didn’t even know Bifur knew how to speak Gaelic. So they settled down in that tiny village in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere that Bifur absolutely seemed to love whenever he talked about it, before. So Bofur learned ancient Gaelic, moved himself with Bifur to this shitty place and watched Bombur move his life too. His baby brother Bombur, a up and coming architect moved with them. Sometimes Bofur hates the oppressive heat, the pouring rain, the lack of anything remotely civilized but then he see Bombur with his wife, a doctor from Doctors Without Borders who is a damn fine cook, and he thinks it might be okay. Another good thing to happen is the return of Bifur’s smile.

Bofur thinks over his life as he walks deep into the jungle, needing the calm chaos that it is to sooth his nerves after a long shift in the mine. And as he walks he carves, just a silly little figure that probably won’t even sell, his hands nice and steady. Until he notices that the jungle has fallen silent. Now he isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, the sharpest knife in the drawer all those other things that say he isn’t bright after all you don’t become a miner if you're smart, but he knows a thing or two. Like if a previously loud jungle goes silent then there is something big and or bad coming. He’s read enough crime and mystery books along with both of the Jurassic Park books, seen all the movies, seen both the Primeval series and a shit ton of other shit that taught him a lot. And the stuff he didn’t know he looked up. So he freezes, and yes he knows that is useless because what kind of predator can’t see an unmoving prey and dear god don’t let whatever it is be a meat eater!!! But he can’t climb a tree because he’s in a fucking jungle and jungles have their own natural predators that can climb on their own. So he freezes and tries to blend in with his surroundings.

That’s when _it_ lumbers by. He can tell by the lack of long, pointy, pointy teeth that it isn’t a pure carnivore but that doesn’t mean it isn’t an omnivore and he doesn’t even know what kind of creature can get that big. He stares at it remembering books that he has read and documentaries that he has seen and his breath catches. Could it really be!? A living breathing dinosaur? Oh how he wished he could tell for sure if it was and what kind it is if it is a dino. A fucking dino. After what feels like hours of watching it, the damn thing just turns around and leaves. He stumbles home, his legs not wanting to work after standing so long, his hands searching out his satellite phone, the only damn thing that gets a signal. Bilbo will know and if he doesn’t then maybe one of Bilbo’s other friends might. Cause Bilbo is a Paleobotanist and has paleo ties.

Bilbo will know what to do, the lad has always known what to do…But what are the fucking odds that a bloody dinosaur would show up in Bumfuck Nowhere?!?


	79. Third Soul Watch Chapter That May Be The End

Hobbits by nature are rather curious things so it’s no surprise to Lobelia that the marketplace is abuzz with noise. There are Dwarves, Dwarves on their way to Erebor. Lobelia doesn’t really care, it’s the Dwarves business not hers, but she hopes they stay safe. Otho is at her side happily chatting with when she reaches out to grab an apple. Otho grabs her wrist.

“BELIA! Look,” Otho says eyes wide with happiness but fear as well. Her numbers are down to seconds! She holds her breath glancing around trying to see who belongs to her remaining Watch.

_Thirty._

The crowds seem to be bunching together and she can’t see anyone that she hasn’t already seen everyday of her life.

_Twenty._

There aren’t even Dwarves. Oh Yavanna, her Watch is a Dwarf! A Dwarf with a Hobbit as a Watch. Will they be happy? Will they be disappointed? Is that why her numbers kept jumping?

_Ten._

There’s still no one. Tears are starting to gather in her eyes as she searches out the crowds.

_Nine._

“They’re not here!”

_Eight._

“Calm down Belia… They have to be.”

_Seven._

“But they aren’t.”

_Six._

She just wants a glance. To know that she isn’t alone. That her Watch is out there.

_Five._

She’s crying openly, clutching her wrist and Otho is clutching her shoulders.

_Four._

Otho is praying softly under his breath for her. Otho never prays.

_Three._

They’re not coming. But… But that’s okay cause she has Otho.

_Two._

“Belia…..”

_One._

“What?”

“Turn around.”

_Zero._

The Dwarf before her is perfect. Soft brown eyes that draw her in. Dark brown hair that is braided elegantly and frames their face. She can’t tell if the Dwarf is male or female but… The Dwarf holds out their wrist the top numbers are grayed out whilst the bottom numbers are green. Shakily she too holds out her wrist. She’s found her Watch and she smiles slightly.

“Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror,” the Dwarf introduces herself with a bow.

“Lobelia, daughter of Cerdic.”

Dis smiles and Lobelia feels her heart beat quicken.


	80. Playing With Age Regression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a drabble than anything. Ran out of steam for it but figured you may still like it.

Lindir pales as he takes in the three children before him. His Lord Elrond was going to kill him when he returned from visiting the Lady Galadriel... If he isn't already dead for trying to strangle a Wizard. He expects this sort of behavior from Gandalf, maybe even the Brown one that drops by to have a drink with his Ada but not the White Wizard who stands unashamedly behind the three children.

“They should know better than to antagonize a Wizard,” Saurmon says slowly and Lindir grinds his teeth together. He won't insult the Wizard, he won't, he won't, he won't. Rivendell is a place of rest and healing even for people like Saurmon.

“And when will this spell wear off.” he asks after a deep calming breath.

The White Wizard shrugs.

“I do not know nor care. They brought it upon themselves.”

With that he swirls away and Lindir imagines choking him with the long white robe. He looks back at the children who are staring up at them. The twins are holding each other's hands, looking both terrified and brave while little Arwen just looks curious.

“Who are you?” she asks. Lindir bends down so that he is eye level with her.

“I am Lindir. I work for your father.”

“You are not Linnie!”

“Linnie is shorter than us!” the twins shout at him.

Arwen nods her head. Lindir hums trying to remember when he came to Rivendell. Clearly they remember him when he was a child but that was so long ago.

“But I am. Maybe your Lindir shares my name.”

The twins give him unimpressed looks.

“We don't believe you.”

“We want out father.”


	81. Dragon Dreams

Lindir often dreams of flying on slender wings, of glistening brown scales shining in the sunlight. Oh how he dreams of flying high above cities and kingdoms. Sometimes he dips down, scoops up an Elf –he dislikes the smell of Humans, Dwarrows, and halflings though if pressed he will take one of them-- and takes them to his cave. He does not eat the Elf as many seem to believe he will, instead he sings to them, trilling and lilting. Loving the moment when fear turns to curiosity turns to respect turns to maybe friendship and they sing back to him. He dreams of places he's never seen and songs he's never heard, things lost to time and burnt to ashes. Not all dreams he dreams are good, sometimes he dreams of his little friends dying-- he forgets to feed them or one of his brothers or sisters eat them-- he doesn't like those dreams. For he wakes up with an ache in his chest and tears in his eyes. Then there is the nightmare that is so much worse than the others, he's flying and happy and carefree when an arrow pierces his underbelly. He doesn't sleep on a bed of metal and gems but instead sleeps on harps and flutes and furs to keep his little friends warm, his underbelly is soft and exposed. He falls,

                                                                                                                                                                    falls,

                                                                                                                                                                               falls, like a stone from a ledge. His wings snap and bones crack in his desperate bid to stay airborne as more arrows hit him until he crashes. The arrows go deeper the more he struggles and he cries out for his brothers and sisters to save him as an Elf approaches-- thoughts of fire far from his mind-- his fallen form. There is no mercy in that Elf's eyes, eyes that haunt Lindir's waking moments in their anger, as it brings it's sword down.

 

When he was young and naïve, when he lived with the one who carried him and birthed him into the world he was told that the dreams were just dreams. That he wasn't one of the cursed ones. The fallen sons and daughters of Morgoth that the Valar turned their backs on. That he simply listened to the Elder's stories of Dragons far too much. His nana told him to ignore the words of hate that came from the other's mouths. That they did not know what they spoke about when they threw stones and hate filled words. That his ada was merely angry that Lindir was more likely to become a singer instead of a hunter.

 

But youth and nativity do not last long in the face of an Orc attack. He does not remember much about that time, just the black blood, and the screams and then later the soft brown eyes of someone promising to keep him safe. Of gentle words and even kinder touches and warmth that he thought he'd never feel again. Erestor became his savior in so many ways and like his nana told him endlessly that he was not evil, that he did not have 'bad blood' in his veins. But Lindir knew better now. The legends say that the other children of Morgoth-- Orcs, Goblins, and Dragons-- can feel are drawn to the ones with bad blood. In their eyes, the cursed ones betrayed their master and deserve to die.


	82. Playing With A/B/O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have something big I may do with this if people like it. But that big thing will also have to wait until I finish a story or three. I will probably mark this collection as complete when it hits 100 chapters.

Fili takes a deep breath, trying to work through the pain. Mahal above, what had he done to get such a punishment? His entire body burns and it shakes as if he is out in the snow. Every scent he smells is amplified to the max. He can’t breathe through his nose without something threatening to choke him. The blanket that had once been a comfort is now horrendously scratchy and painful but he can’t move his limbs to toss it off. Sounds grate on his ears and he swears he can hear the very heartbeat of his brother two doors down. Light burns his eyes every time he tries to open them and Mahal strike him down! End this pain. He whines low in his throat, the muscles in his back locking up painfully, forcing him to bend back.

 

Suddenly, footsteps thunder down the hall like a herd of Oliphants.  _ Thud, thud, thudding _ , crackling like thunder. He whines again, wishing he could move his arms to cover his ears. His door slams with a deafening crash, the vibrations seeming to travel through the wall to his very body. A smell invades his nose; thick, cloying, drowning and yet comforting. It’s the smell of a forge, metal and fire and smoke and it’s the smell of oak trees and leather.  _ Safe _ , his mind whispers as he is hauled up unceremoniously and arms encircle him. A rumble builds in the chest holding him, and instead of being painful it masks the other noises until all he can hear and feel is that rumble. His muscles release slowly and he chances opening his eyes.

 

“Uncle Thorin?” he croaks tiredly. His uncle smiles gently.

 

“Aye, it’s me my little lion,” Thorin rumbles and Fili melts into the embrace. 

 

“I’m sorry it took so long to get to you. I thought you would be a Beta.”

 

The tired blond lets out a confused mumble and he feels his uncle nuzzle the top of his head.

 

“Your Grandfather was an Alpha, I remember the look of disappointment on his face when one after another his children presented as Betas.”

 

Thorin shifts just a bit and another body joins them on his almost too small bed. This one smells of the forge and old papers mixed with home cooked foods. He cracks open eyes that had slipped closed and huffs at his mother. She huffs back at him with a smile.

 

“He still loved us of course,” she whispers as if imparting a great secret, “Alphas and Omegas are rare even in the Durin line.”

 

“Sleep. We will be here when you wake.”

 

When he wakes it is to the soothing scent of the forest after a storm and treated wood.  _ Mate _ his mind whispers then with a sad whine it corrects itself with a soft whine  _ brother. _ His eyes slit open and he comes face to face with his little brother. Kili smile when he notices that Fili is awake.

 

“About time! What are the odds that the one who spouts off about maturity would be the one to sleep in late on his coming of age day?”

 

“Uncle said I could.”

 

“So I heard. Doesn’t change the fact you are lazy. Lazy Alpha.”

 

Fili’s stomach rolls at the thought. He’s had enough classes to know about Alphas. More prone to rage and jealousy, more prone to fall to Dragon Sickness. Alphas are leaders, are never hesitant and take charge of everything. They need to be balanced out either by a Beta- which most of the Dwarrow population is- or an Omega- there are fewer of them than there are Alphas- or they can fly into a rage that only ends with the death of the Alpha.

 

“Fili? Fili what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t want to be Alpha.”

 

Kili pulls him into a hug.

 

“You will be a great Alpha. And don’t worry, I’ll be a Beta to your Alpha and keep you sane. Just like always.”

 

The blond huffs a laugh.

 

“More like drive me to insanity.”

 

They cuddle together and Fili revels in the mixing of their scents. It’s wrong, Kili is his brother but it feels so right. He doesn’t want to leave Kili’s arms. When was the last time they lay together like this? Too long ago. Fingers card through his hair and he lets out a deep rumble much like his uncle did. It startles Kili who begins to laugh.

 

“Maybe we should call you kitty instead of lion?”

 

“Shut up Kili.”


	83. More Age Regression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still with me, I'm sorry that I haven't been too active with things you guys probably have been hoping I'd be active with. My muses are being cruel and I've just not been keen on writing. Don't worry I am still aiming to finish all my stories so don't worry.

Lindir holds the small form of Arwen to him, humming a soft song into her ear. The little girl clenches her small hands into his robes. Her cries for her mother are breaking his heart. He wishes that the Lady of Rivendell was here to soothe her. He takes a deep breath, continuing to hum the song.

 

"I want Nana," she whimpers.

 

"I know you do little one."

 

But the Lady is far away, sailed across the sea. The sun is setting and it's almost dinner time. The setting sun casts reaching shadows that go well with the crying of the one in his arms. Where the twins are he isn't sure. Still in Rivendell or else the guards would be-

 

"Lindir!"

 

The minstrel turns, heart in his throat.

 

"They need your help in the kitchen."

 

The guard is young, maybe the same age as Lindir himself, frazzled and out of his depth. There appears to be bits of lettuce sticking onto his armor. It’s the look of absolute despair on the guard's face that has Lindir shifting Arwen to a more secure position on his hip and swiftly heading toward the kitchen.

 

Lettuce and other greenery is flying through the air. And in the middle of the chaos is the twins. They have shared looks of mischievousness and desire for destruction. 

 

“Boys!”

 

The twins ignore him, jumping about easily dodging the kitchen maids trying to catch them. Lindir feels his eye twitch before he takes a deep breath.

 

“Arwen, little one, cover your ears,” he says waiting for her to do so. When she does he takes a deep breath and whistles loudly. Everyone stops what they are doing to stare at him. His foot is tapping a rhythm on the floor, Elladan and Elrohir drop the food in their hands.

 

“What do you two think you are doing?” Lindir asks bouncing Arwen a bit giving the boys severe looks.

 

“Having fun,” Elladan whispers.

 

“By wasting food?”

 

The twins look ashamed but nod. Lindir sighs and bends down so that he is eye level with them. Arwen squirms until she is standing.

 

“I know that you want your ada and nana but they aren’t here. That means that you need to listen to me and Erestor. I know you two can be well behaved, so what caused this? Is it just because you miss your ada?”

 

Elrohir scuffs his foot on the ground.

 

“Nana should be here but she isn’t and everyone is lying to us. We aren’t stupid.”

 

“That’s right you aren’t. Maybe they are lying because they don’t think it is there place to tell you whatever it is you are wanting them to tell you?”

 

The boys blink in surprise.

 

“That doesn’t really excuse them of course. But adults have tough things to decide,” Lindir continues, “You should know that they would never lie to you about something that would hurt you. Everyone here has your best interests at heart.”

 

“You really aren’t our Linnie. Your smart!”

 

That stings a bit but Lindir pushes that back to reach out and clean off some of the food debris that stick to their skin.

 

“I think you owe someone an apology.”

 

The twins turn to look at the kitchen maids, hands behind their backs and repentant looks on their face.

  
“We’re sorry!”


	84. Hobbit Customs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbit's have strange customs. The put meanings to things, like how they touch you, how they stand, where they had go when they talk. Each one says a different thing. And Hobbits have different ways of having children. Lobelia considers this as she holds her child.

Lobelia hums a soft little tune as she holds her child to her chest. She is a mother now, just as  _ her  _ mother had wanted. She has a child now, just as her mother had wanted. The baby makes a soft sound, his little hands opening and closing. He is what her mother calls precious. Small as all Hobbit kits are, with large feet and eyes that have not yet opened. They won’t open for another month, or so her mother tells her. Her mother, her mother, it’s all about what  _ she  _ wants. It’s never been about what Lobelia wants. Lobelia sighs, pressing her nose the top of her son’s head wanting to feel that  _ flash  _ of love and instant devotion her mother spoke of. It doesn’t happen.

 

“Lobelia?”

 

“I don’t feel it,” she gasps brokenly looking up at her husband. They don’t love each other like her mother and father did. He reaches out with a hand, rubbing her cheek gently. A lover would have nosed it. Would have pressed their cheek to hers, rubbed their nose against her face. He keeps space between them. They could have had their child a different way, one of magic and Yavanna’s blessing but her mother said no. And they bent to her will because if there is one thing that Lobelia’s mother is, it’s loud and they didn’t want her going to Otho’s parents.

 

“It will come. We didn’t exactly want him,” her husband says leaning down to nuzzle their kit.

 

“Would it have been different if we had Planted?”

 

Otho tilts his head, considering it.

 

“Possibly. But we’ll never know.”

 

A month passes and her baby opens his eyes. They are a dark brown like her own, but it is likely that they will lighten with age. The only hair he has is on his feet, dark and curly like the little one’s father.

 

“Still haven’t named the little one then?”

 

She raises her eyes and takes in the male Hobbit before her. He has curly chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes. Once upon a time, she fancied him. Bilbo Baggins. The cousin to her husband. He smiles at her gently, hands behind his back, head tilted, feet clicked together. It’s the standard pose for one trying to appear harmless to a new mother. Spread legs and open hands mean danger. Old Hobbit customs that the new generation can’t seem to shake.

 

Not a word is said between them, Lobelia goes back to looking down at her suckling baby. She noses the top of his head. It’s hard to bring herself to do much these days. A hand touches her knee.

 

“Belia-”

 

“I’m a mother, now,” her voice is dead. She keeps her child alive but she can’t bring herself to do much to keep herself alive.

 

“You are,” there is something in Bilbo’s voice that has her looking up again. His hand moves from the knee to her cheek. They stay like that for a while, her looking up at him and him holding her cheek until the baby fusses.

 

“He’s a bit like the both of you. Why not use that?”

 

She shrugs, her kit burped and looking around. Part of her wonders if he can see things as she does. The apathetic part of her doesn’t care so long as he’s breathing. Bilbo putters around her home, cleaning up and keeping up an ample supply of chatter. 

 

He comes back the next day and the next until she’s smiling again. Otho nearly drops his cup when he sees it. She still doesn’t feel that spark her mother talked about but she’s no longer apathetic about her baby.

 

“What do you think about Lotho?” she asks long after Bilbo has left. Otho is smoking his pipe and she’s rocking in her chair.

 

“I like it.”

 

Three years later she’s standing in front of Bilbo, Lotho in a sling on her back and Otho puttering around the house. Sometimes it isn’t the Bracegirdle’s you have to watch out for. Sometimes it’s the Sackville-Baggins. She hates her mother-in-law and she hates whoever put that lost look on Bilbo’s face.

 

“He’s gone Belia, Tho, he’s gone. I wanted to Plant with him, wanted to Bear for him,” Bilbo whispers brokenly, leaning into the hand on his cheek. There are tears running down his cheek, hot against her hand.

 

“I loved him.”

 

She kisses his head and swears to be there for him like he was for her.

 

Bag End seems empty despite the fact that she and Otho managed to get back every item that was sold during the auction. He was gone for two years and suddenly came back. Came back broken.

 

“Tell us what happened?” Otho asks one night. He’s holding Lotho who’s just starting to talk. Their kit is now a little faunt able to run around the world. His hair is still the dark curly sameness as his father’s and his eyes which gaze up at Bilbo curiously are still brown though not as dark as they were. Lobelia watches from the doorway, tankards of beer in her hands. Bilbo worries the pipe between his lips.

 

“It starts in a hole in the ground. Not a dirty, slimy hole, nor a sandy, uncomfortable one. No, it starts in a Hobbit hole, a smial if you will, and they are the comfiest hole of all.”

 

It’s stilted and if Bilbo is going to write it down like she thinks he will, he’ll play with the beginning for years. Slowly the tale comes out of how Gandalf the Grey came and dragged their Bilbo away for an adventure. How Bilbo came to care for thirteen Dwarves, three in particular.

 

“Master Boggins they called me,” Bilbo says with a wet laugh, “even after I told them it was Baggins. And I never thought Burglar could sound romantic.”

 

How they came to die.

 

“I couldn’t save them. Oh, Nienna I tried! I tried,” he sobs, pipe long forgotten and body twisted up into a ball. Her bones ache from standing so still but she plops the tankards down and brings Bilbo’s face into her hands. Holding both cheeks in her hands she rests her forehead on his. One hand drops to his neck. She grieves with him, silently promising her protection. She steps back and Otho is quick to copy her pose. Even little Lotho tries to. It gets Bilbo to laugh. Broken and jagged but it’s a laugh.

 

Gandalf will never be forgiven. And should the Tooks ever learn of how broken their favorite cousin is she doubts the Dwarves will be either. As it is, Lobelia isn’t too fond of them. Even if she knows that it was a sickness that caused most of the hurt, even if she knows that Thorin Oakenshield probably didn’t understand just how much of her cousin he had. The line of Durin, no matter how small it may be now, will always be one step away from being smacked by her umbrella.


	85. How Do You Do It?

Lindir holds the child to his chest, humming a soft tune lowly. The sun has yet to rise above the horizon and the city still sleeps. Now if only the little one in his arms would do the same. He leans his head down and nuzzles the soft hair that the baby has. The baby isn’t his, and oh how he wishes the little boy was. Instead, the little one is a child he agreed to babysit. Good practice for when he has one of his own if he ever has one of his own.

 

“Linnie?”

 

He turns, tilting his head as he takes in the one who spoke. It’s one of the twins. Whether it is Elrohir or Elladan he’s not sure. The braids and style of clothing he typically relies on when it comes to the twins are missing. Instead, he’s faced with a twin with their hair down, twisted and knotted in the way only sleep can get it, and in sleep clothes.

 

“My lord?”

 

The twin’s face scrunches up in distaste at the title. Or maybe it’s because at that moment the little one lets out a cry. Lindir resumes his swaying adding a gentle bounce.

 

“How do you do it?” the twin asks. He almost sounds like he's pleading with Lindir but that can't be.

 

“How do I do what?”

 

There is a noise of frustration.

 

“How do you love father, knowing that there is a very high chance that he will never love you back? How do you not break when he touches you when he smiles at you when he looks at you like you are the only thing in the world but you know he’s only doing that because he’s talking to you and as soon as someone else speaks you’ll lose him? How can you stand it?”

 

Lindir freezes and looks at the twin, there is a vulnerableness that Lindir hasn’t seen since the twins found out that he was in love with their father. The petty part of him wants to leave the question in the air, to ignore the desperation. To show him how it feels to be ignored. But Lindir can’t.

 

“I won’t lie, it’s hard. But… But I realize that those looks, those touches, those smiles are all I deserve. He is a  _ Lord _ and I am just a singer. When he smiles I am content in the fact that he is happy where so many others would have already Faded or sailed,” he pauses and takes a step toward the twin. He thinks better of it and takes to back, looking down at the baby, therefore missing the look of pain pass over the other elf’s face.

 

“When he touches me, it soothes me. Because it means that I am not invisible to him. When he looks at me so enraptured by what I sing, I feel as if I can fly. Those little things keep me going. But again, I am but a minstrel wishing for the attention of a Lord. He will  _ never _ love me but I love him enough to accept that.”

 

“Linnie-”

 

“Was there a reason you asked?” Lindir interrupts softly, the baby is finally asleep and even if it lightens his soul that his friend is talking to him, he must wake early.

 

“Elrohir is in love with someone.”

 

That catches Lindir off guard. There are no rumors about the Prince falling in love. And there are always rumors. He fights off a yawn as he slowly approaches Elladan.

 

“He loves you.”

 

Elladan shakes his head.

 

“Not as you love father he doesn’t.”

 

Carefully he reaches out, making sure the baby won’t fall from his grip, and cups Elladan’s face.

 

“He  _ loves _ you. Of this I am sure. You two are the sun and the moon, revolving around each other, illuminating those around you with your light.”

 

Elladan searches his face, his hand holding onto Lindir’s.

 

“I wish I could believe you… I have kept you-”

 

“Sleep with me tonight as you once did when we were younger? I do not want to be alone.”

 

Interrupting those of higher standing must not become a thing. But this is Elladan, the Elladan who held him after a nightmare. The Elladan who would sneak into his room and curl up with him to listen to stories.

 

“Okay.”


	86. Eomer plus Faramir equals once in a dream

The first time that Eomer sees him it’s in the healing halls. His sister is there, and thank any and all Vala that had a hand in that. In that moment between entering the room where his sister is supposed to be and seeing his sister, he gets a glance of the last remaining son of Denethor.

 

His heart doesn’t skip a beat nor does it flutter in those seconds. He doesn’t trace the sparse hair on the other man’s face or wish to drown in those eyes. Instead, he skips over the man and drinks in the sight of his sister alive and breathing. Later when he’s alone in the room he’s been given, resting before the final march on Mordor, he lets his thoughts rest on that man.

 

He’ll dream of touching that hair, of running his fingers through it. He’ll wonder what it feels like to be kissed by that mouth. Dreams of riding a horse beside that man, and maybe in the darkest spaces of his mind he’ll dream of riding the man. Watching those eyes darken with lust, feel the man move inside him as he releases.

 

It’s not meant to be. For he is going to be the King of Rohan and  _ Faramir _ son of Denethor is going to be Steward of Gondor. That doesn’t keep him from spending every moment he can with Faramir. His sister laughs, thinking that he’s being overprotective of her. It doesn’t hurt when he finds out that Faramir and Eowyn are in love. It doesn’t. Because he wants his sister to be happy.

 

What chance had he for one like Faramir when his sister was also a contender?


	87. Chapter 87

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know if I mentioned this, but I'm thinking about ending this collection at 100 chapters. Mainly so I have one less WIP on my page. (I may make another little short holder later). And I'll focus on the other wips that I have on my page so that I don't feel so guilty when starting on other stories.

Bard dances with his oldest delighting in the way her face lights up as he twirls her around. It’s been such a long time since there was cause for dancing, for joy. It’s been a year since the death of Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies. Tonight they celebrate the victory, tomorrow they mourn their losses. Sigrid laughs merrily, her eyes lighting up as her brother Bain cuts in, taking her place to dance with him. Some might find it odd, a father letting his son lead him in a dance but as a single father Bard had learned both roles of the dance. Soon Bain is replaced with Tilda and the merriment continues.

 

Exhausted, and limping because of a fellow dancer stepping on his foot Bard collapses into a chair. A few of their neighbors have joined in the party; Bard can see Bofur up there on the musician stand. He thinks he can hear the laughs of other Dwarrows. Elves filter in and out of his sight, drinking ale and talking with the people of Dale. It’s a good life.

 

“You dance very well,” a low voice drawls. Bard pretends like it doesn’t cause shivers to run down his spine. He’s getting too old to be falling for an immortal now. At least that is what he tells himself as he turns his head to look up at King Thranduil. The Elf glows under the moonlight, making him look so other worldly that it hurts. His dear wife often remarked on his appreciation for beauty. And for what he could not have.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Thranduil holds out a hand.

 

“Would you dance with me?”

 

It’s almost too easy to take that ageless hand. Bard can feel calluses under his finger that speak of hard work. They make him less conscious about his own. As a bargeman and an archer, his hands are rough and hard. Nothing like the Master’s hands used to be. But Thranduil is a warrior and a King with calluses just like him. And if there is one leader that he wants to be like it is the Elf who leads him so effortlessly through dances. The Elf has no problem with the quick paced dances that the musicians seem to favor tonight. Full of spins and twirls and intricate steps that have Bard lighting up and laughing in delight. And then a slow song begins. Still cheerful and fitting of the party movements slow.

 

He doesn’t want this night to end. But end it must and Thranduil places a kiss upon his hand before he leaves. Bard watches the Elf King walk away, his heart pounding in his chest and desire burning in his gut. Yes, he wants what he can’t have but it’s okay. It’s okay. His children surround him, dragging him home and telling him all about the good time they had. It’ll be okay, he’ll get over this crush. If he avoids washing the hand that Thranduil kissed that is for him to know.


	88. Little Boxes

Belladonna Took was a Thief. Of this, there was no doubt. It wasn’t uncommon for Hobbits to fall to that occupation, they are shifty little things who walk unheard. The innate magic buried deep in their soul thriving as they stretch their sticky fingers when they traveled outside of the Shire. So while there was no doubt or condemnation of her occupation Belladonna shocked the good Hobbits of Hobbiton by adding Archer to her Thief. Unheard of to have two. To dare to cross lines and smudge barriers. But that is what she did and as a Took no one dared touch her.

  
Bungo Baggins, on the other hand, was Nothing. He was a bachelor and the son of the Baggins. He had the teachings to be anything he wanted! Even a Thief though his mother would have fainted at the thought. Bungo didn’t want to be stuck in a box though. And when Belladonna entered his life it was like his prayers were answered. She encouraged him to be his own man. And so he was much to the scandal of his family.   
  
A Nothing and an Archer-Thief marry. It’s the subject of gossip for years. Their large smial going empty for years. Then a Nothing becomes a Bearer. Forced into the role. Which leads him to giving them the Hobbity finger and moving out of Hobbiton, out of the Shire so that his child would not be forced into those boxes.


	89. Being A Beta

He shouldn't be in here. Fili knows this. Kili is in no place to have visitors but Fili can't stay away. His brother is coming of age. The scent that soaks the room soaks Fili, makes his knees weak and they shake. He wants to sit here and drown in this scent.

 

_ Mate _ , his mind whispers over and over.  _ Mate  _ it cries out in jubilation even as another part screams  _ brother  _ and  _ wrong  _ over and over again. Because it is wrong. So  _ very  _ wrong to want what he wants from his brother.

 

Kili lets out a soft whine, the scent of pain lacing the unique scent of his brother and Fili moves from his place by the door. He shouldn't get so close. Not with how out of control he has been feeling lately. Lashing out at everyone, snarling and growling like a beast. But Kili  _ needs  _ him. So he crawls, so he scrambles over to his brother before his uncle can even get out of his bed.

 

_ Beta  _ his mind whispers in wonder as he runs his fingers through his little brother's hair. He rumbles much like Thorin did for him, trying to soothe his brother back to sleep. Part of him wants to crawl into bed with Kili. Wants to wiggle under those covers and wake his brother with kisses, wants to pull down those sleep pants that his brother sleeps in and really get him up.

 

He doesn't though. Because he won't do that to his brother. He won't let his baser instincts win out. He is not an animal like others like to whisper about him, forgetting how well Alphas can hear. Kili falls back asleep and the door opens. He can smell his uncle and mother standing in the doorway.

 

"I won't hurt him," he whispers not looking up. Oh so slowly, he moves away. Valar it hurts. Like his Coming of Age day, it feels like he's catching fire as he moves away to let them take care of Kili. His mother stands next to him, her hands in his hair as uncle climbs onto Kili's bed. Her voice is soft as she speaks.

 

"It's not you hurting him that I'm worried about," she whispers and he wonders if he was meant to hear it. He leans into her, hating the sad scent that surrounds her.

 

It takes two days before Kili comes out of his room. He still smells the same but he moves with a confidence that he hadn’t had before. There is a determined look in his eyes as he marches up to Fili. Uncle is there, because Uncle is always there, watching with dark eyes. Like he knows what is going to happen, he knows and is scared of what it will cause.

 

“I’m a Beta just like a told you I would be,” Kili states plainly. Fili puts down the sword he was holding. Dwalin is late or maybe Uncle delayed him. There is a lump in Fili’s throat.

 

“Aye.”

 

Kili takes a step forward and Fili finds himself taking a step back. He can be brave in all things that do not include his brother looking like a wolf on the hunt,

 

“Do you know what you smell like?”

 

Fili shakes his head.

 

“You smell of sunshine and melting metal. You smell like mine,” Kili says taking another step toward him. There is a scent underneath his typical scent that Fili can’t figure out and suddenly Fili is front of him.  _ When did he get so tall that I have to look up?  _ he thinks as Kili puts his hands on Fili’s shoulders.

 

“I am not a delicate flower. I do not care what others will say.”

 

Then Kili is kissing him like Uncle isn’t there. Like they are the last two living things in the world. Kili’s wild hair is caught between their lips and his fuzz of a beard scrapes against his own but Fili melts into it. Not the most Alpha move in the world but Fili never put much stock in being proper. Kili pulls back, laughing when Fili tries to follow.

 

“Come to bed with me. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

 

It’s too fast. Far too fast. They should court… wait… brothers… they can’t… Kili growls.

 

“I will maim anyone who tries to stop us. We’ve known each other my whole life, I think we can skip the courting.”

 

Fili mock pouts.

 

“You don’t think I’m worth courting?” he asks, more as a joke but part of his tenses. A funny look crosses Kili’s face. Uncle clears his throat and without looking, Fili knows that his eyebrow is raised, waiting for the answer just as much as Fili is.

 

“Of course you are!”

 

“Good. I’ll be your chaperone and your mother can be Fili’s,” Uncle says, “Now that is over with Fili needs to continue his studies and so do you.”

 

Kili splutters some but kisses Fili’s hand in goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it and think It has potential please tell me.


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